Gaijin Teitoku II: Time Marches On
by ijnfleetadmiral
Summary: With the war over, the inhabitants of the naval base settle into peacetime duty. Notice this makes no mention of a chaos-free existence...
1. Doc Meets Dess

**DISCLAIMER:** **I own nothing...if I did, I would be living the good life with the Kongo sisters, Saratoga, and Mutsu.**

Here it is...as promised! Somehow I don't think this one will be as long as the original, but you never know, right? Hope you enjoy it!

Special thanks to **Generalfeldmarschall** , **brtk136** , **Zone-Meister** , **Pyeknu** , **Repair Ship Akashi** , **Krugger** , **Berean** , **F-14 Tomcat Lover** , and **Lt. Cmdr. Jonathan Miller** for reviewing the final chapter of _Gaijin Teitoku_!

Here we go!

* * *

 **Gaijin Teitoku II: Time Marches On**

 **Chapter One: Doc Meets Dess**

Fast battleship Kirishima sighed happily as she relaxed against the tree trunk. So many changes had taken place at the naval base over the past year, and if her calculations were correct – and they always were – more changes were still to come. How exciting!

She glanced around at the beautiful fall afternoon. It was still warm enough to remind one of the late days of summer, but the breeze had a slight crispness to it that served to remind one that fall was on its way. All in all, it was a perfect day to be outside enjoying the sunshine.

"Kongo, Auntie Haruna wishes you'd stay put!"

Kirishima smiled indulgently as she turned to look at the other occupants of the blanket. Her dear Haruna onee-sama was trying to corral their mischievous nephews. Seven-month-old twins Kongo and Toshio Naoe 'Tosh' Avers were certainly a handful, but with over two hundred loving aunts at the naval base (along with four uncles) – and a whole other slew of aunts and uncles around the world – Kongo and the Admiral had no shortage of babysitters to choose from.

Over the past year, the various nations of the world had passed resolutions stating that the kanmusu would function like a normal navy – patrolling the seas of the world and generally keeping the peace – so there was no reason to declare them obsolete. It went without saying the major humanitarian organizations would have put up a ginormous howl if any country attempted to scrap their shipgirls; Avers had gone before the Japanese Diet and stated bluntly that, though he had great respect for Japan and the girls under his command loved their country deeply, if the Japanese government ordered the shipgirls on Eta Jima scrapped, the JDF would have to invade the island to get them…and that would be if they could get through seven battleships with guns that were capable of blasting any incoming forces to smithereens while they were still thirty miles out.

Three hours later, the Diet passed a law that gave Eta Jima to the World Kanmusu Fleet to use for as long as there were shipgirls in existence. All in all, a good day.

Kirishima glanced over at where Haruna had managed to snag Kongo. The fast battleship picked up the baby and showered her with kisses, causing her to squeal in delight. She then looked down at the blanket where Tosh was resting fitfully; for some reason, he'd been out of sorts all day. Each twin seemed to take after a different parent; Kongo was a lot like her fast battleship mother, always cheerful, always moving around, and always getting into things. She was a happy baby who never seemed to cry unless she was hungry or needed a change. Tosh, on the other hand, was a quiet boy who took after his father, preferring to play quietly and rarely got into trouble.

A whimper from Tosh caused Kirishima to reach over and pick him up.

"Are you all right, Tosh-san?" The fast battleship spoke to the baby as though she expected him to answer. While that might seem weird to some, Dr. Spock-san stated in one of his numerous books that talking to one's baby was very important and that it greatly helped in their development. According to Kirishima's calculations, Kongo and Tosh were well ahead of many other children in their age group, which was always a good thing.

Tosh's response to his aunt's question was to throw up all over her and then giggle. Haruna looked over and cringed at the spectacle, only to miss Kongo flopping down on the blanket with a soft 'mmh'. The faint noise got the battleship's attention, and she picked Kongo up and cuddled her, thinking she'd been seriously hurt, although the little girl appeared more interested in getting down and playing some more than staying still in her aunt's arms.

"Onee-sama…Kongo-san fell!" Haruna looked stricken.

"Haruna, calm down," Kirishima stated calmly as she wiped off her glasses. "As Tosh-san is ill, I believe we should, as the Americans state, 'kill two birds with one stone' and take them both to the infirmary, don't you agree?"

" _Hai!_ " her sister replied, standing up. "Haruna, heading out!"

Kirishima sighed at her elder sister's exuberance before folding up their blanket and following.

* * *

The atmosphere of the JDF Hospital at JMSDF Base Kure was laid-back for the most part, but for the doctors in Accident & Emergency, there was always something going on. Lieutenant Commander Dr. William Ray Rhodes shook his head as he left Exam Room Three after wrapping a patient's sprained ankle; he had to give retired Sergeant Major Nagakura credit…the man refused to let his age keep him down. _Although, you really ought to be extra careful if you're still skydiving at ninety-two_ , he mused.

A nurse passed him in the hall. "VIPs in Room Six, Doctor Rhodes-san," she stated. "Twin children with a frantic aunt."

"Gotcha…thanks," Rhodes replied, taking the chart and glancing at it. He was surprised to see the name 'Avers' there; usually anyone having to do with the shipgirls went to the repair facility on base; apparently the shipgirl that was formerly a repair ship also served as their medic.

 _This might be serious_ , he thought. _Could be why they're here instead of having remained on the island._ He opened the door to find the twins – a boy and a girl – being held by their aunts.

"Afternoon, ladies," Rhodes greeted them, "I'm Doctor Rhodes. What seems to be the problem today?"

The aunt wearing glasses jumped up and came over to him, holding the boy in her arms. The boy appeared to be fine; he was looking around the office with interest and didn't seem sick at all.

"Doctor, I am Kirishima, fourth ship of the Kongo class," Glasses Girl introduced herself. This is my elder sister, Haruna."

Rhodes turned to nod in acknowledgement at Glasses Girl's sister, and found himself staring into a pair of heart-stopping brown eyes. He forced down his inner male reaction that was howling like the wolf in the old Tex Avery cartoons and smiled at the girl.

"Miss Haruna," he replied, making sure to use his Alabama accent, and was awarded by the sight of the dark-haired girl emitting a soft squeak before blushing scarlet and looking away.

Rhodes smiled and turned back to Kirishima. "And who are these two?" He indicated the twins.

"These are our niece Kongo and nephew Toshio," Kirishima stated proudly; to Rhodes she seemed proud enough to have been the children's mother herself.

"What seems to be the problem today?" Rhodes asked, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

"We were spending the afternoon outside and Kongo-san was crawling around on a blanket Haruna had laid down," Haruna stated, looking guilty. "Haruna was distracted by Kirishima onee-sama asking Toshio-san if he was all right, and she'd just picked him up when he threw up on her."

Rhodes noticed the stains on Glasses Girl's white _miko_ top and cringed. "I see."

"Then Haruna heard a soft cry and when Haruna looked down at Kongo-san again, she had fallen from her crawling position."

"Why don't you lay Miss Kongo down on this table and I'll look at her, then we'll look at Master Toshio," Rhodes patted the exam table, and Haruna walked over and stood by while Rhodes examined Kongo for any injuries. After a few minutes, the handsome young doctor straightened up and shook his head with a smile.

"Ladies, your niece is fine…she just lost her balance and tipped over, is all. Kids are gonna do that when they're learning to walk and crawl…you just gotta watch out for 'em." He thought for a moment. "I'm guessing their primary care physician is the repair ship at your naval base?"

The two battleships nodded. "Has Little Miss Kongo here exhibited any shipgirl traits?"

Kirishima nodded. "She's managed to manifest a small rigging that Akashi thinks is supposed to be the weapons for JDS Kongo."

"So you're saying she's a guided missile destroyer?" Rhodes asked, and when Kirishima nodded, he smiled. "Then I don't think you'll have much to worry about in terms of bumps and bruises, especially if she's got the armor of her ship counterpart."

"Dess!" Kongo squealed. "Dess, Dess, Dess!"

"That's the only word she knows how to say right now," Kirishima stated. "She's quite proud of it, too."

"As well she should be," Rhodes replied, turning to Toshio, who had been placed beside his sister. Rhodes gave him a basic exam, which the little boy appeared to take in stride. Once the exam had been completed, Rhodes turned to the two battleships.

"He doesn't have a temperature, and he doesn't appear to be sick…I'm going to guess he just ate something that didn't agree with him and now that he's gotten it out he should be fine." When the two battleships breathed huge sighs of relief, he smiled. "Ladies, one thing you have to remember about kids: they're gonna get sick…they're gonna eat stuff they're not supposed to. But that's because they're kids…they get into stuff. That said, I don't think you have anything to worry about with these two."

Rhodes walked over to the door and opened it, ushering the four of them out. "Rather than bill your naval base and have Fleet Admiral Avers and his wife freak out over a sudden emergency room bill concerning their children, I'll let you tell them about this and have Fleet Admiral Avers call our billing department to settle up."

" _Arigato_ , Doctor," Kirishima smiled. "I think that would be best."

"Th-Thank you, Doctor," Haruna murmured.

Rhodes turned and smiled at her. "Nice meetin' you, Miss Haruna…you have a good day, now."

He thought the tiny squeak the battleship admitted was adorable, and he couldn't help but wonder how far down her beautiful body that rosy blush of hers went. He was jarred from his naughty thoughts by a familiar voice addressing him.

"Hey, Billy Ray! What we doin' for dinner tonight?" Lieutenant Dr. James Wayne Rhodes approached, an easygoing grin on his face. He took notice of the two women standing beside his brother and his smile widened.

"Afternoon, ladies! Dr. Jimmy Wayne Rhodes at your service! How old is your son, ma'am?" he asked Kirishima, who smiled and shook her head.

"Tosh isn't my son, Doctor…he's my nephew. Neither Haruna onee-sama or myself are married." She sighed. "We just haven't found the ones we're meant to be with yet."

"Well, now, that right there is truly a shame," Jimmy Wayne nodded in sympathy. "Perhaps you two lovely ladies might elaborate for my brother and I over dinner this evening?"

Kirishima smiled. "We'd love to, right, onee-sama?"

Haruna blushed. "Ha-Haruna is agreeable to that."

"Perfect! What time should we pick you up, then?" Jimmy Wayne pointedly ignored his brother's look of consternation.

"Oh, take the last ferry to the naval base and we'll eat at Hosho's restaurant," Kirishima replied breezily. "Then you can stay in guest quarters overnight." She adjusted her glasses and smiled at the American doctor, batting her eyes flirtatiously.

"Sounds like a plan," Jimmy Wayne grinned, waving goodbye as the two battleships headed off down the hall. He turned to his brother. "Go ahead, Billy Ray…you can thank me for getting us dates."

"Thank you for getting us dates," Rhodes parroted, then added with a grin, "you saved me from having to ask the one called Haruna myself."

His brother seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Glad you didn't say you wanted Kirishima…always had me a thing for girls with glasses."

Rhodes emitted a snort of laughter. "She's all yours…that Haruna's adorable. But if they're the girls I'm thinking of, there are two more sisters whose approval we probably need. From what I've read of them, all four are very close and very protective of each other." He fixed his brother with a serious look. "I know your 'footloose and fancy free' way of dating…don't do that with this girl. Not only would it probably screw my chances with Haruna, but you'd be facing thirty-some-odd fourteen-inch guns, get me?"

Jimmy Wayne shook his head. "Wasn't plannin' on doin' her like that…there's somethin' about this girl that's different than all the others. Aside from the whole 'battleship spirit'-thing," he amended when he saw his brother giving him a 'no shit' look.

Rhodes shook his head. "I'll take your word for it. Come on…let's finish our shift; we've got dates to get ready for."

* * *

 **UP** **NEXT:** It's a birthday to remember for the Blaskewicz family!

 **The names Toshio and Naoe hold special significance for Kongo...can anyone tell me why?**

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	2. A Birthday to Remember

**DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One.**

Glad to see fans of the original are liking the sequel thus far...here's hoping you like this chapter! Thanks to **Generalfeldmarschall** , **brtk136** , **Hayane234** , **KINGTIGERACE** , and **Berean** for reviewing Chapter One!

* * *

 **Chapter Two: A Birthday to Remember**

Lieutenant (Engineer) Dr. Gavin Blaskewicz bid Akashi and Yubari a good evening and began walking home. The past year had been filled with classes and studying; he'd gotten his Bachelor's in Engineering within a month of the war being over, and six months after that he'd received his Master's. Getting his Ph.D. was magnificently simple; all he'd had to do was present a working model of the Kanmu-Shoes and its upgrade and the Doctoral Review Board had passed him with flying colors. Engineering companies around the world had begged for him to come work for them, but he'd refused them all; going to work for one of them would mean leaving his family and even more importantly, his best friend. Hibiki hadn't been pleased at the notion of Gavin leaving to work overseas, but the tight hug and small 'Khorosho' she'd uttered when her best friend informed her there was no way he was leaving said more than anything.

One private firm out of Saudi Arabia had not taken kindly to being refused; its owner was a Sheik who was high-ranking in the oil business, and he wanted Gavin's technological mind working for him by any means necessary. After a kidnapping attempt had been discovered and thwarted, Avers had placed a conference call to the Sheik and courteously informed him that Gavin had chosen to remain in Japan, and unless the Sheik desired to go up against every shipgirl at the naval base he'd do well to respect Gavin's decision. Having all the Yamatos, both super-Yamatos, and Nagato standing behind him with full combat rigs – along with Tenryu, who was idly sharpening her sword – managed to convince the man that discretion was the better part of valor.

It had been yet another productive day at the repair yards, and he was quite pleased at having finished the request plans for Akagi's scheduled refit. The fleet carrier had been quite pleased at being informed her refit would enable her to carry the new N1K3-A _Shiden_ fighters, and a redesigned island would greatly increase the abilities of her communications equipment. Best off all, the changes to her appearance would be insignificant; the small smile from Kaga when he informed the two carriers of this was all the praise he needed.

But today was also a special day: it was his fifteenth birthday. Being a typical teenager, he'd thought about skiving off work and just being a couch potato with Joji, but his desire to finish Akagi's refit plans won out, and so he went into work like usual. As he walked, he brought out his iPhone 7 and pulled up his finance account, and was pleased to see his balance had once again incurred a nice increase. His Kanmu-Shoes had finally been introduced to the international market and continued to sell out in stores across the world. To add to that, he'd just finished working on a way to link them with a virtual-reality interface he'd designed that allowed the wearer of the shoes to play as their favorite shipgirls and destroy Abyssals using controllers shaped like various combat rigs, from hand-held destroyer gun mounts to the bow-and-quiver rigs of fleet carriers, all the way up to the massive backpack rigs of the super-Yamatos. He'd taken the proposal to Nintendo, and the company pounced on it like an archaeology collector who'd just been offered a chance to buy the Holy Grail.

Predictably, once news of his achievements hit the States, he'd received a letter from his father, who was currently in Iowa State Penitentiary serving thirty-five years to life with the (slim) possibility of parole. Ricky Zeller had seen an interview Gavin had done for a gaming magazine (one of his drinking buddies had visited and brought the article to show him) and had written his son in the hopes of getting his sentence overturned by asking Gavin to hire a team of crack-shot, brown-nosing lawyers who would stoop to any means necessary long as the money was good. Gavin and Eddie had been hard-pressed to stop Tenryu from borrowing the Airbus 380 and paying a visit to ISP, and had succeeded only when DesDiv 6 deployed their secret weapon: a nigh-invincible device known as the Mark X Puppy Eyes. Having stopped his mom-boat from creating another international incident, Gavin thought of a perfect way to reply to his father.

Three weeks after sending the letter to his son, Ricky Zeller was surprised to be hauled before an international court where a pair of World Kanmusu Fleet JAG lawyers presented him with a permanent cease-and-desist order that stated he was forbidden from contacting his son ever again. Ricky did not take this news well; the resulting display of 'negative emotion' got him a further fifteen years added on to his sentence, all but assuring he would remain behind bars for the rest of his natural life.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GAVIN-SAN!"

Gavin was brought out of his thoughts by Akatsuki's shriek; he glanced ahead to see his purple-haired sister running at him full-speed, followed closely behind by Ikazuchi and Inazuma. Further back, going at a more sedate pace, was Hibiki.

Akatsuki came to a stop right in front of him before grabbing him in a tight hug, being joined by Ikazuchi and Inazuma, who echoed her earlier sentiment (along with a happy 'nanodesu' from Inazuma).

"Thanks, girls," Gavin laughed, hugging each one and throwing in head-pats for good measure, although he still didn't know why Hibiki had started blushing whenever he did that.

The group made their way back to the Blaskewicz residence, where Gavin found that reservations had been made at Hosho's restaurant for dinner that evening. A few hours later, the family of nine sat around a large table, with every shipgirl in the restaurant coming over to wish Gavin a happy birthday. Gavin – never one to make a big deal about his birthday – took the attention in stride, taking time to play a quick game of peek-a-boo with Iku and Aiya's daughter Rie.

The food was – of course – excellent, and the cake Hosho baked especially for Gavin looked almost too amazing to eat: seven layers of decadent chocolate cake with dark chocolate icing. It was so addictive that Gavin was even able to ignore his dad feeding Tenryu a piece from his fork, which brought a blush from the mom-boat and giggles from three of his sisters.

His presents were awesome as well: a PlayStation 4 Pro from his parents and various games from Tatsuta and Kiso, a new light for his drafting table from Ikazuchi and Inazuma, and a new graphic design program for his computer from Akatsuki and Hibiki. His sisters also got him a few smaller presents, which Gavin really wasn't surprised about; he'd done the same for their various lay-down, launch, and commission days.

After unwrapping a new Gundam kit from Inazuma, Gavin figured the slew of presents was pretty much over. Then Hibiki handed him one last present, giving him a small smile as she did so. The box was small and light, and when Gavin shook it lightly, it appeared to have some sort of plastic inside. Intrigued, Gavin removed the wrapping and was pleasantly surprised by what he found.

"What is it, kiddo?" Tatsuta called down the table.

"Cool!" Gavin grinned holding up his present, a 1/700-scale Waterline Series destroyer model. "Hibiki got me a model of her ship self."

Tenryu choked on her drink and appeared to gain a nervous tic under her right eye.

"HORK!" Kiso attempted to inhale the bite of cake in her mouth. Tatsuta snorted back laughter and pounded her girlfriend on the back.

Akatsuki, Ikazuchi, and Inazuma squealed excitedly and burst out giggling at what seemed to be a private joke. Blaskewicz pounded his wife on the back and looked at the table's other occupants like they all had screws loose.

Gavin turned to a now-tomato-red Hibiki and hugged her. "Thanks, Hibiki…I can't wait to build it."

His comment only served to make Hibiki's blush deepen, his other three sisters squeal and giggle more, and Tenryu to resume coughing. Confused, Gavin turned to his father.

"Dad, do you have any idea what's going on? Why does Mom appear to be on the verge of a meltdown?"

"E-Excuse us for a moment!" a red-faced Tatsuta gasped as she and Kiso got up and headed for the exit.

"I have no idea, son," Blaskewicz replied. "Guess it's just one of those things us men will forever remain clueless about."

"Oh," Gavin nodded. "I understand."

"Everything all right over here?" Iku strolled over with Aiya and Rie. She turned to Gavin. "Why'd your aunt and her girlfriend run out of here like their asses were on fire?"

"I have no idea," Gavin replied. "It all started when I showed everyone this present I got from Hibiki." He held up the model ship, and became even more confused when a wide grin spread over Iku's face.

"You got him a model of your ship-self?" she smirked at Hibiki, who blushed and nodded.

The submarine was about to continue speaking, but further conversation was halted when Rie chose that moment to say her first word.

"LEWD!"

This resulted in a blushing Petty Officer, a smirking-and-very-proud sub-girl, Tenryu to start banging her head off the table, a fresh round of giggles from three adorable destroyers, and Tatsuta and Kiso – who'd just reentered the room – to collapse to the floor laughing, their battle to keep a straight face hopelessly lost.

Blaskewicz and Gavin remained blissfully confused.

* * *

Eddie Blaskewicz considered himself a pretty easygoing guy, but one thing that always riled him up was when either his wife or one of his kids had a problem, and right now his beloved Tenryu appeared to be shell-shocked by a random event at dinner. She'd barely said three words since Gavin had unwrapped Hibiki's present, and three of his daughters hadn't stopped laughing since the same event had happened.

For some reason, Akatsuki, Ikazuchi, and Inazuma had found Hibiki's gift to be a source of great amusement, and laughter had turned to outright cackles when Gavin stated he was going to read the model's instructions in his room. Hibiki had only blushed even more at this statement, while Tenryu had promptly ordered all four destroyers to bed. Hibiki had hugged Gavin and wished him Happy Birthday in Russian before escaping to the girls' room; her sister ships had followed after temporarily halting their giggle-fest.

Now the couple were lying in bed, and Blaskewicz knew by the way Tenryu was clinging to him that any hopes he might've had for some 'extracurricular activities' had gone by the wayside.

"Ten?" He ventured a question. "Seeing as how I'm the clueless guy here, you wanna let me in on why a simple model ship made you freak out worse than the time you thought you'd lost the girls because you fell asleep with your headphones on and your door locked?"

His wife huffed and smacked his chest lightly. "I told you not to keep reminding me of that!" she whined softly, pouting like a teenage girl. Her husband laughed and kissed the top of her head, causing the light cruiser to snuggle closer and sigh contentedly. "Sorry, Eddie," she murmured after a moment, "I guess I just don't want the girls to grow up so fast."

"What does Hibiki giving Gavin a model ship have to do with them growing up?" For the life of him, Blaskewicz couldn't see the connection at all.

Tenryu sighed. "When a shipgirl gives a model of her ship form to a human, it means she wants to…um, build ships together."

"That's cool," Blaskewicz responded. "Guess the two of them are gonna start building models together…hope they don't build them too quickly, or else the house will be full of them."

Tenryu sighed; her husband – adorable though he might be – had completely missed the point.

"Lemme put it another way for you, Eddie: a shipgirl giving a human a model of their ship form is their way of saying, 'I want to have your babies'."

"WHAT?!" Blaskewicz was embarrassed at how his voice briefly devolved into a girly shriek. "Nonononononono…they're too young for that! None of the girls need to even _think_ that way for the next fifty years or so!"

Tenryu giggled at his reaction; she loved how their roles could reverse at the drop of a hat; now she was the one having to talk him down from a panic attack.

"The girls have all gone through puberty, Eddie…they're going to be thinking about adult stuff every so often. And I think it was inevitable for Hibiki to start seeing Gavin in that sort of light; the two of them have always been close."

Gavin groaned, but then he started looking at it from a practical point of view.

"You're right, Ten," he stated. "They have to grow up at some point; they can't stay four adorable little girls forever."

"Nope," Tenryu snuggled closer.

"And besides, Hibiki's probably the most-sensible one out of the four of them," Blaskewicz added. "We'll just have to trust her." He sighed. "Although I'm really not ready to be a grandparent yet."

Tenryu sat up like Dracula at sunset. "You just _had_ to give voice to that thought, didn't you, Eddie? Jeez…" She groaned.

Blaskewicz, for his part, watched as the collar of Tenryu's favorite sleep shirt – a recent Mother's Day gift from Gavin that was three sizes too big for her and had a picture of a grinning Happy Bunny holding a sword and the words _I like to run with sharp, pointy objects_ on it – slipped down, exposing a pale, flawlessly-skinned shoulder and informing the Supply Officer that his wife probably wasn't wearing a bra underneath.

He sat up as well and leaned over, nuzzling Tenryu's neck. "I'm sorry, babe," he murmured, kissing his way down her neck and punctuating his statement with a brief nip at her skin.

The light cruiser gasped in surprise and turned to look at him, lust flaring in her eyes. "You're forgiven," she purred, seconds before she pounced.

Any thoughts of model ships and what teenagers could get up to because of them were quickly forgotten.

* * *

 **UP NEXT:** How did the Kongo-class double-date go?

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	3. Mic Check! One, Two, Date!

**DISCLAIMER:** **See Chapter One. Sadly, I still don't own Kongo, Mutsu, or Saratoga.**

Sorry this took so long to get out...life's been a royal bitch as of late. Tried reentering the workforce after 10 years of taking care of family and found out my back will no longer let me do heavy lifting. Whee. So it's back to fighting for my disability. Fun...not. Anywho, on the plus side it just means more time to write this story.

Thanks to **Generalfeldmarschall** , **dragonbane522** , **Danny79** , **KINGTIGERACE** (awesome name BTW...King Tigers RULE!), **Berean** , **brtk136** , **stryder122** , **Zone-Meister** , and a Guest for reviewing Chapter 2!

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Mic Check…One, Two, Date!**

"Hey, Billy Ray…you seen my Bugs Bunny tie?" Jimmy yelled down the hallway from his bedroom in the brothers' shared quarters.

In his own bedroom, Rhodes sighed as he tucked in his shirt. "Don't wear a tie tonight…this is a casual dinner!"

"Good point!" Jimmy replied. "Still can't find my Bugs Bunny tie, though!"

"I'll help you look when we get back!" Rhodes shouted back as he finished tucking in his shirt and put on a leather jacket. "Not like you need it for work or anything…" he muttered to himself, smiling as he thought of what their Commanding Officer, Captain Franklin, would say if Jimmy showed up wearing a SpongeBob tie with his winter blues.

He was stopped by his cellphone ringing; he groaned when he recognized Jeff Foxworthy's _Redneck Stomp_ , the tone he used for family members.

"Doctor Rhodes," he growled, bracing himself for another round of family problems.

" _Billy Wayne?"_ the voice of his cousin replied. Rhodes was surprised; of all the family members that could have been calling him, John was not one at the top of his 'Most Likely' list.

"John?" Rhodes asked. When his cousin confirmed it was him, Rhodes laughed. "This is a surprise…didn't figure on you bein' one who'd call me."

" _Listen, Mom sent you a package…she told me I needed to make sure it got to you."_

Rhodes groaned; his Aunt Kayrene was not exactly the motherly type. Why she'd suddenly decided to reach out to him could only mean she wanted something.

"Did she?" he replied, walking out of his bedroom into the small living room in his shared quarters. He was joined seconds later by Jimmy.

"Who you talkin' to?"

"Our cousin John, believe it or not," Rhodes replied. "He says Aunt Kayrene sent me a package."

"Cousin John?" Jimmy grinned. "Lemme speak to him! Hey, John Enos!" Jimmy greeted their cousin when Rhodes sighed and put the call on speaker.

" _Hey, Jimmy Ray…how you doin'?"_

"Just fine, man…me and Billy Ray done got us a double-date tonight…we's fixin' to head out right 'fore you called!"

"Not to break up the reunion here," Rhodes drawled, "but do you have any idea when this package is supposed to arrive?"

Almost in answer to Rhodes' question, the doorbell rang.

"Prob'ly it now," Jimmy stated. "I'll get it." Rhodes was even more surprised when he heard his brother's exclamation of shock from the doorway and via the phone.

"John Enos! What the hell you doin' here, son?"

Rhodes swore softly and ended the call as he walked to the door, finding his cousin John standing there pulling a rolling suitcase with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a backpack over the other.

"Oh, good night o' livin'!" the Navy doctor swore. "How the hell did you get on base?"

John held up a Military Dependent's ID.

"I still have it from when Dad was in the Army. All I did was put my thumb over the expiration date and they let me walk right on in."

Rhodes groaned as Jimmy Wayne laughed. "I'm glad our base is so tightly secured." He held his hand out. "Gimme that ID…you're not a military dependent anymore, so you really shouldn't have it."

"Dad's still in the Army," John protested.

"No, he's at Leavenworth doin' ten years for cold-cocking a two-star! Big difference!" Rhodes stated.

Jimmy checked his phone and whistled. "A flight from Alabama to here is almost $1,500…how did Kayrene swing that?"

John shrugged. "She got part of it by cashin' in her food stamps, then she sold some grass and meth for the rest." He looked nervous. "Dunno why she just bought a one-way ticket, though…I gotta get back 'fore school starts."

Rhodes felt faint. "She only bought a one-way ticket?!"

John nodded and shrugged. "Said it was cheaper."

"Bullshit!" Rhodes growled, then softened his expression; after all, this wasn't his cousin's fault, so he couldn't put the blame on him. He placed his hand on John's shoulder. "You know what's goin' on here, right?"

John nodded. "I kinda put two and two together when she and my latest 'uncle' dropped me off at the airport and she told me 'It's been real, it's been fun, but it ain't been real fun. See ya, kid.'"

"Well, sumbitch!" Rhodes stated, aghast at how careless his aunt was.

"What I wanna know is, why the Sam Hill would she send you to us?" Jimmy wondered.

John scoffed. "Because you and Billy Ray are the only ones who've made somethin' of yourselves! Hell, y'all both graduated high school, and got a full ride to college on scholarships to boot! According to Granny Semmes, y'all are the first two in the whole family to not only go to college, but graduate! Y'all got outta the trailer parks and never looked back! Far more than the rest of the family's done…all they do is sit around and hunt, fish, and drink!" He shook his head, "Hell, I ain't gotta tell y'all how it is; y'all know exactly what it's like at home, and it ain't gettin' any better."

Rhodes sighed. This was going to play hell with the Navy, but he was damned if he was going to turn his cousin away. He patted John on the shoulder. "C'mon and put your stuff inside. You've got the couch until we can figure something else out."

"What about y'all's double-date?" John asked as he set his things beside the couch.

"On it!" Jimmy replied, pulling out his own phone.

"Grab whatever you need to stay overnight somewhere and let's go," Rhodes replied. "We ain't leavin' you here by yourself."

"I done it all the time when I lived with Mom," John protested.

"Maybe, but as an old song says, 'Now those carefree days are gone'," Rhodes quipped. "You live here, there's gon' be some changes, such as set bedtimes, proper meals _with vegetables_ ," he stressed the last two words as a look of disappointment came over John's face, "and mandatory attendance at school."

John groaned. "But school sucks!"

"Course it does," Rhodes agreed, "but you gotta go one more year. Then you can do whatever you want."

"Got it all worked out!" Jimmy announced as he stepped back into the living room. "We still got our date tonight, but we're gonna eat at the base commissary instead of at that restaurant." He turned to John. "So, pick out what you need for an overnight trip and let's hit the road."

John grabbed a set of clothes out of his duffel bag, along with his toiletries kit, and then picked up a thick spiral notebook and a small zippered case.

"What're them things?" Jimmy asked.

"My sketchbook and drawing utensils," John replied. "I always carry 'em in case I find somethin' that inspires me to draw."

"Like the old saying goes, 'Don't leave home without it'," Jimmy quipped with a grin.

"Exactly," John nodded.

Rhodes picked up another sketchbook and flipped through it. The artistic talent displayed in the drawings was incredible. The fact that most of said drawings were very attractive young women in either skin-tight or next-to-nothing outfits was overlooked for the moment.

"You've got some serious talent," he complimented his cousin, turning the sketchbook for his brother to see.

Jimmy glanced over and whistled appreciatively. "Damn, son…you're good! You gonna apply for a job at Marvel or DC Comics?"

John shrugged. "Maybe. What I'd really like to do is draw my own comic, but I can't seem to find the right inspiration."

"Never can tell what'll happen," Jimmy stated. "You might meet your inspiration yet."

* * *

The trip to the naval base was uneventful, as was John's first meeting with Haruna and Kirishima. The trio adjourned to the commissary, where the three Americans watched in astonishment as the two petite fast battleships loaded their trays with enough food to supply a small village each.

"Is there something wrong?" Kirishima asked as she and Haruna dug in.

"Sorry," Rhodes smiled. "It's just a refreshing change to date a woman who doesn't pick at rabbit food."

"There's always plenty of food available here," Kirishima replied. "Mamiya-san's Café and Hosho-san's Restaurant also offer a wide variety of food, but Mamiya-san's Café is more of a dessert parlor and Hosho-san's restaurant is a more-intimate setting." She smiled. "Given our situation, I didn't think John-san would appreciate sitting in a candle-lit restaurant while the four of us had a romantic date."

"'Preciate it," John muttered, concentrating on his large plate of beef stroganoff.

"Ah, Admiral!" Kirishima abruptly switched gears and waved at Avers, who had just entered the commissary. The Commander of the World Kanmusu Fleet acknowledged his sister-in-law with a wave and made his way over to the table.

"Kirishima, Haruna," Avers greeted them before turning to their dates. "Gentlemen."

Jimmy nodded, John smiled amiably, and Rhodes resisted the urge to jump to attention. He silently thanked God he wasn't in uniform; forgetting to render proper honors to a five-star admiral was not easily overlooked.

"Admiral," he greeted. "It's an honor, sir."

"These are the doctors who treated Kongo and Toshio when we visited the Kure Base Hospital," Kirishima introduced them. Doctors William and James Rhodes."

"U.S. Navy, I'm guessing?" Avers asked, and the two doctors nodded.

"Lieutenant Commander and Lieutenant," Rhodes supplied, indicating himself and his brother. "This is our cousin John," he introduced John, who'd opened his sketchbook and appeared to be drawing the commissary. The teen tore himself away from his sketching long enough to shake hands with Avers before returning to his work in between bites of food.

"Thank you for treating the kids," Avers stated. "I know kids will get into stuff, but my wife and I worry about them all the same."

"Completely understandable, sir," Jimmy replied. "Gotta look out for the young'uns."

"If the two of you are interested in broadening your horizons, I'm looking for two doctors for the base here." Avers casually mentioned. "We just summoned three shipgirls who were hospital ships in their previous forms, but as I'm sure you know current medical practices are vastly different from those practiced during World War II, so they're not quite up-to-date yet." He sighed. "Though I have to give them credit for trying." He seemed to be remembering an incident he'd rather have forgotten, but didn't elaborate on it. "Your ranks will transfer over if you decide to join us," he added, "and there's adequate base housing for families."

"We'll definitely consider it, sir," Rhodes confirmed. He was about to say something else but was stopped by a commotion at the door to the commissary.

"Hi-hi! Naka-chan, Idol of the Fleet, Desu~!" A girl in an orange dress bounced through the door, striking a cutesy pose once she was inside. Most of the commissary's occupants looked up briefly, then resumed their meals or conversations.

"Nee-san!" A girl wearing a similar outfit came in behind her, blushing in embarrassment.

"Ah, it's almost nighttime! I can feel my blood stirring!" A third girl wearing a traffic-cone-orange dress entered behind the other two and raised her fist into the air excitedly, causing the blushing girl to blush even deeper. Naka smiled cheerfully and headed for the food line, the other two following her.

Avers returned Naka's wave, then bid his sisters-in-law and their companions a good evening, heading up to the food line to get his family their evening meal.

"Who're the girls wearing orange?" Jimmy asked.

"Those are the Naka sisters," Kirishima replied. "The one talking about being the fleet idol is Naka…she's our resident pop star. The blushing one is Jintsu; she's the most-serious of the three. And the one excited about it being almost nighttime is Sendai. She's obsessed with night battles."

"Any particular reason why?" Rhodes asked.

"She fought in several major night actions during the Pacific War," Haruna replied, then after a moment added in a quieter voice, "She was also sunk in a night battle."

"Do all shipgirls have traits emulating how they were sunk?" Jimmy asked.

"It depends on the shipgirl, I would guess," Kirishima shrugged. A distant look came over her face. "I myself want a person who surprises me at every turn, sweeping me off my feet, blinding me with sudden brightness out of the empty night and then burying me under a hail of shells! YASEN!" As she spoke, her voice grew evermore excited until she jumped to her feet and shouted the last word, raising her fist into the air in triumph.

Sendai's echoing shout of "YASEN!" from the food line seemed to bring Kirishima out of her trance; she glanced around to see most of the commissary staring at her in concern for her mental state. The fast battleship merely ignored the stares, adjusted her glasses, and sat down as though nothing was wrong.

Jimmy grinned at her. "Now, Miss Kirishima, I might not be equipped with guns or searchlights, but I'd like to see what I can do in terms of surprising you and sweeping you off your feet…if you're amenable, that is." He applied his Alabama accent heavily on the last part, resulting in him sounding every bit like a Civil War-era Southern gentleman and Kirishima all but melting into a puddle of fast battleship goo.

Rhodes clamped down on the near-irresistible urge to roll his eyes; his brother certainly had a way with the ladies. He glanced over at his own date to see she was watching John with some concern.

"You all right, Miss Haruna?" Rhodes asked, and was secretly pleased to see the fast battleship blush as she met his eyes.

"H-Haruna is concerned about John-san," she replied. "He appears to be frozen in place."

Rhodes looked over at John to see him gazing at the food line as though he'd been searching for something all his life and had finally found it.

"John! Snap out of it, son!" he nudged his cousin, who blinked and shook his head briefly.

"What?" he asked, turning to Rhodes.

"You were staring at the food line as though it held the Holy Grail," Rhodes replied. "And you just went through it, so you know for a fact there ain't nothin' _that_ mesmerizing up there."

"Not anymore," John replied, his gaze sweeping the room again before settling in a certain direction. He sighed contentedly. "I've found her."

"Found who?"

"My inspiration!" John exclaimed, grinning before opening his sketchbook and starting to draw rapidly.

"Who-?" Rhodes glanced in the direction his cousin had been looking, only for his eyes to land on light cruiser Sendai. He groaned inwardly; the boisterous light cruiser didn't exactly seem to fit the term 'level-headed'.

"Just be careful, is all I ask," he replied. "I don't want any second cousins running around."

John looked up for a moment, startled. He then appeared to register what Rhodes was insinuating, and he shook his head rapidly. "No way! I ain't even _thinkin'_ 'bout that!" He scoffed. "'Sides, doubt a girl like her would even glance my way."

"You don't know that –" Rhodes attempted to counter, but broke off when he saw John was completely absorbed in his artwork and not paying the slightest bit of attention.

"So nice to be listened to," he muttered, before turning to Haruna for some much pleasanter conversation.

* * *

The following morning, the trio were back on the ferry to the mainland. They'd talked it over the night before, and both Rhodes and his brother had decided to join the World Kanmusu Fleet. The two doctors were going to file transfer papers at lunchtime that day, and hoped to complete the move between naval bases that weekend, as the three of them had very little stuff to move.

Rhodes glanced over at John, who was once again buried over his sketchpad.

"You still drawing?" he asked.

"Finishin' up the one I started last night," John replied. "By the way, thanks for lettin' me use your phone to do a little bit of research." He grinned. "I think me coming here's like providence or some shit…ever since I seen that cruiser girl, I've got enough ideas in my head to fill at least three comic books. There!" He signed his name with a flourish, and turned the sketchbook to show his cousins. "Whaddya think?"

Rhodes and his brother glanced at the drawing, and then had to do a double-take.

The picture showed the boisterous light cruiser they'd seen the night before, but she looked _very_ different. Her skin was a pale white, and she was wearing what appeared to be a black latex bodysuit along the lines of Cat Woman from _Batman Returns_. The gloves on her hands each sported a set of wicked-looking blades that would not have looked out of place on the Shredder from _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ , while in her right hand she held a beyond-wicked-looking sword, the blade tinged a metallic red. She looked like sex personified fighting crime, and judging by her feral grin and the gleam in her blazing red eyes she knew it.

Rhodes was speechless. His brother, on the other hand, was not.

"God bless America!" Jimmy exclaimed. "Son, you make that into a comic book and you'll be rich!" Then he noticed a caption beside John's signature. "What's this here say?"

"' _Isumi Sendai: Yasen Akuma Senshi Yuwaku_ '," John replied. "Translated, it means 'Isumi Sendai: Night Battle Demon Warrior Temptress'."

"I'd say that pretty well covers it, all right," Jimmy grinned.

"Agreed," Rhodes put in. "You realize you can never make this public, right? If that girl somehow found out, we'd never find your body. Call me nutty, but pissin' off a girl who packs the wallop of a World War II cruiser ain't by any means what I'd call smart."

"Why's the blade of her sword red?" Jimmy asked, causing Rhodes to roll his eyes; as usual, his warning went in one ear and out the other.

"It absorbs the blood of her enemies," John replied.

"Awesome sauce!" Jimmy stated, then grinned as a thought occurred to him. "Y'know, Kirishima told me last night that there are a couple of shipgirls who build 'side projects' for people. Betcha they could build you a sword just like this, complete with the whole 'absorbing blood' thing."

"Think so?" Now John looked interested too.

"No harm in askin'," Jimmy replied.

"Are y'all on the level?" Rhodes broke in. "Are you even _listenin'_ to yourselves?"

"Sure are," Jimmy stated. "We're talkin' about seein' if we can make a totally awesome sword!"

Rhodes sighed. "Why ain't they hearin' me?" He asked, looking up to the heavens. "I know I'm talkin'; I recognize my voice."

"Oh, we hear ya," Jimmy confirmed.

"It's just you're choosin' to ignore my voice of reason?" Rhodes asked, to which his brother grinned and replied, "Exactly!" When Rhodes shook his head in despair, he asked, "You know why we give ya such a hard time, Billy Ray?"

"Because you want to see my hair turn completely white before I'm forty?" Rhodes replied, only half-joking.

"Naw! It's because we love ya!" Jimmy hugged his brother in an overdone display of emotion, causing John to look up from his sketchpad and laugh.

Rhodes smiled and patted his brother's arm. His life might not be the best in the world, but what he did have wasn't all that bad.

* * *

 **UP NEXT:** **What have the American kanmusu been up to? I'm sure DesRon 23's settled down and is not causing trouble or anything...*evil grin***

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	4. DesRon 23 and the Snowball Effect

**DISCLAIMER: See Chapter** **One.**

I can't apologize enough for the delay in getting this out. Suffice to say real life has been a royal biz-notch as of late, and time to write has been virtually nil. Hopefully that will change soon.

Special thanks to **Krugger** , **KINGTIGERACE** , **konnigvanmessen** , **brtk136** , **Tekketsu1220** , **Fury Fire - The Easiest of 8** , and **Gnaoh El Nart** for reviewing the previous chapter, and a very special thanks to **F-14 Tomcat Lover** for not only reviewing the previous chapter, but also for giving me the idea for this one.

* * *

 **Chapter Four: DesRon 23 and the Snowball Effect**

Destroyer U.S.S. Aulick (DD-569) sighed as he took in the chaos around him: fires, explosions, and representatives from probably every local and national emergency service and law enforcement organization known to man.

"Well, bros," he mused, "One thing's for certain: we definitely can't say it's been an uneventful day."

"No indeed," Stanly replied, watching as DEA agents hauled another kicking, screaming, and extremely upset Colombian from the waters of Norfolk Harbor. "I think this is definitely one for the record books."

"Shame Tash went back to Russia," Dyson put in. "She'd love this. She'd act like she was all mad and lecture us in Russian –"

"Which none of us understand," Spence interjected.

"– when we all know she's just pissed that we didn't drag her along for the ride," Dyson finished, causing his brothers to nod.

"Um, bros…" Foote trailed off nervously, looking over at the police barricade where Fleet Admiral Robertson was arguing with an officer.

"Uh-oh…" Thatcher muttered, the rest of the squadron not saying a word as the naval officer was allowed past the barrier and stormed over to them.

"Before you start lecturing us," Converse began, "lemme just say this isn't our fault."

Robertson had been about to let loose a veritable tirade, but Converse's unbelievable statement caused him to lose the head of steam he'd built up.

"Oh, this I've _got_ to hear," he muttered. "Please, do explain."

Aulick took up the reins. "Well, it goes like this…"

* * *

Two Hours Earlier

DesRon 23 – plus their honorary member – had the day off, so they were of course down by the docks watching the various ships come and go. They were sailing in mid-channel, having just escorted the carrier _Enterprise_ out to sea, when Spence noticed something going on at an out-of-the-way pier. A man, his hands zip-tied behind him, was being led to the waterfront by some rather unsavory-looking individuals, all of whom – from what Spence could hear – were speaking threateningly in what appeared to be Russian.

"Dudes, look! That guy's in trouble!" He motioned in the man's direction. "C'mon…we gotta help him!"

Aulick appeared to be about to object, as the situation didn't seem like something he and his brothers should get involved in, but his sense of duty won out. American citizen or not, DesRon 23 couldn't just stand by while someone was obviously in need.

"Rigs out, boys!" He stated. "Lez do dis!"

* * *

Jake McCrea, undercover detective for the Norfolk Police Department, always knew he was risking his life each day he went to work, especially when he went undercover. And now, it appeared his luck had finally run out. He'd been exposed as a mole, and Sergei Moiyakov, Russian arms dealer extraordinaire, was not known for being merciful to people who crossed him.

"I must tell you, Detective McCrea," Sergei made small talk as Yeorgi and Josip, two of his larger men, were manhandling McCrea to the edge of the pier, where several large cement blocks attached to chains were waiting. "This betrayal hurts. My men are like family to me, and when one of them crosses me, I get most upset." He sighed. "Now I must…what is American expression…ah, yes," he smiled as the phrase he was looking for apparently came to him, "tie up loose ends, I believe, is correct term, yes?"

They were at the end of the pier now, and while Yeorgi held McCrea, Josip leaned down and began to wrap the chains around McCrea's legs before securing them with thick padlocks.

"Done, boss," Josip stepped back.

"Gentlemen, before we dispose of Detective McCrea, let us please take a moment and send up a prayer for his soon-to-be-dearly-departed soul."

As Moiyakov and his men bowed their heads, McCrea found a small part of him appreciated Sergei's being deeply attached to his Russian Orthodox religion despite being a cold-blooded killer. He frantically glanced around for an escape route, not that he could move an inch with cinderblocks padlocked to his legs.

"Amen." Sergei and his men ended their prayer. "And now, gentlemen," Sergei announced. "Please cast Detective McCrea into the embrace of Poseidon." The Russian patted McCrea's shoulder. "If the shoe fits, then you must wear it. _Dasvidaniya_ , Detective McCrea."

McCrea inwardly cringed at the butchering of the American phrase as Yeorgi reached down and made to pick up the massive cinderblocks in preparation to toss them into the harbor. He was about to pick them up when a shout came from out to sea.

"HEY! TURN HIM LOOSE, DUDE!"

The group glanced seaward to find another group of nine ship-boys barreling towards them, intent on rescuing the police officer they'd just been about to kill. Yeorgi forgot about the cinderblocks, straightened back up, pulled out his gun, and squeezed off three shots. There was no hope of them hitting, as the ship-boys were still too far away, but to his way of thinking, it let them know to mind their own business.

The fact that these kids could wipe the floor with him five times over and probably not even break a sweat didn't even register in his feeble brain.

* * *

Out to sea, DesRon 23 watched the bullets impact the water. Spence scoffed and looked around at his brothers.

"Did he _seriously_ just try shooting a handgun at us?"

"Looks that way, bro," Stanly replied.

"OK, just makin' sure," Spence stated, before turning and yelling at the group on the pier. "NICE TRY, FELLAS! MY TURN!"

He hoisted his five-inch hand-mount and loosed a round at a warehouse in the background. Unfortunately, at the last second, he sneezed and his shot went wild, slamming into the warehouse to the right of his target.

* * *

McCrea and the others on the dock saw the puff of smoke from the ship-boy's gun.

"DUCK!" Sergei – no stranger to warfare, having fought in Chechnya – yelled, and he, McCrea, and everyone else hit the deck seconds before the warehouse exploded. As everyone picked themselves up, McCrea noticed another of Sergei's men – Alec, if he remembered names correctly – appear from their warehouse carrying what appeared to be a rocket launcher. He was just about to return fire when another problem presented itself in a very violent manner.

* * *

Luis Francisco Garcia Lopez, lieutenant of the Moreno-Managua Cartel, had just been about to take the sizeable pot that lay in the center of the table with his royal flush when everyone heard a shrieking noise that seemed to get louder by the second. Before he or anyone else could even think to get up to investigate, the whole side of the building facing the docks exploded inward.

That pretty much ended the poker game, as well as Luis's chances of winning big. Someone would _die_ for that, he was certain. Cursing fluently in Spanish, he picked himself up off the floor and headed for the door.

Emerging from his shattered headquarters, he saw a group on the pier next door, including one man brandishing a rocket launcher.

Luis saw red and drew his gun.

* * *

Sergei whirled in surprise when he heard angry yells in Spanish coming from next door. He saw several Cartel members picking their way out of the wreckage, and every one of them appeared to be heavily-tattooed and gunning for himself and his men. At the sound of the voices, Alec turned as well, but seconds later one of the Cartel members put a round through the center of his forehead. Alec's body crumpled, but the last nerve impulses his brain sent out caused his fingers to fire the rocket launcher.

Everyone on the pier watched as the rocket went wild and streaked towards the top deck of the large freighter moored to the Cartel-controlled pier. It slammed into a group of large shipping crates that were currently in the process of being lowered into the aft cargo hold. Whatever was in the shipping crates did not react well with explosives and immediately blew up, causing a massive explosion that shook the surrounding harbor and destroyed the pulley system on the crane, which dropped its flaming load straight into the cargo bay of the ship. Seconds later, several muffled, ominous-sounding explosions could be heard emanating from deep inside the ship, which was followed by numerous deckhands spilling onto the superstructure and leaping overboard, babbling frantically in Spanish.

The explosion of whatever cargo had been destroyed also apparently caused the guy who'd shot Alec to lose it completely, for he screamed like one of his own children was being tortured and opened fire like a madman. Sergei and his men returned fire, and the casualties began to mount.

* * *

McCrea, seeing that Sergei and the others were currently occupied with killing the Colombians, saw his chance to escape. He reached over to Alec's body, pulled out the man's gun, and blew off the padlocks on his chains. He quickly shucked them from around his legs and ran for the street, simultaneously thanking whatever ship-people were out there for starting what seemed like the frigging apocalypse.

* * *

"Whoa…" DesRon 23 stopped and stared at the utter chaos that had unfolded just from one single five-inch shell.

"Well, on the plus side, the guy that was gonna get cement shoes managed to get away," Claxton, motioned to McCrea's rapidly-retreating figure.

"That means we can go home now, right?" Spence asked, causing Aulick to turn and look at him.

"Come on, dude! We can't just up and leave…we gotta help stop this mess!"

"Yeah, I'm da mood for a good fight!" Trigger had surfaced to watch the action with his friends. He pulled out three torpedoes and held them between his fingers. "Watch this, an' I'll throw 'em like ninja stars! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

"You sure you can throw 'em far enough, dude?" Charles Ausburne looked skeptical.

"Aw, c'mon, Charlie!" Trigger replied. "Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained!"

"Dude's got a point," Foote piped up.

"'Zacto!" Trigger grinned, and tossed the three torpedoes like ninja stars, just as he'd stated. Naturally, he was nowhere near close enough to hit the shore, and the three torpedoes hit the water about halfway to shore. Upon contact with the water, they enlarged to become _actual_ torpedoes…and sped onwards in a direct path with the Cartel freighter.

* * *

Aboard the cargo ship _Mar del Plata_ , Captain Javier Rodriguez scoffed as a crewman ran up to him and babbled frantically about three torpedoes suddenly popping up out of nowhere which were now headed straight for his ship. The man was obviously crazy, the Captain decided…he probably saw wave caps or dolphins.

He changed his mind eight seconds later.

The first torpedo hit the ship's stern, the second abreast the engine room, and the third directly amidships, blowing one of the lifeboats sky-high. Almost immediately the _Mar del Plata_ began tilting backwards and listing to starboard as crewmembers surged up from below, many half-out of their minds from fear.

Rodriguez walked over to the ship's horn controls and sounded three sharp blasts – the traditional mariner's signal for 'Abandon Ship' – and then got the hell out of dodge. He was getting too old for this shit.

* * *

Robertson was doing paperwork in his office when Arizona burst in.

"Admiral, I think you better turn on the news."

Robertson braced himself as he flipped on the television. He cringed at the helicopter view of destroyed warehouses and – incredibly – a capsized freighter, but inwardly told himself there was no need for panic…until he noticed several very-familiar kanmusu clambering onto the docks and disappearing into one of the destroyed warehouses.

" _This is a Fox News Alert_ ," the announcer was saying. " _In what authorities are already calling the Battle of Norfolk Harbor, several shipboys of the U.S. Navy have engaged what appear to be forces from both the Russian mafia and a Colombian drug cartel."_

"But what really makes this interesting, Harris, is that the Russian and Colombian forces have also apparently turned on each other, so this has apparently degenerated into a three-way battle of wills to see who's going to come out on top,"

a second announcer replied. _"And personally, my money's on the shipboys."_

Robertson cast a desperate glance at the minibar in his office and whimpered.

"We already have several shipgirls en route, sir," Arizona continued as she helped the Admiral to his feet. "Come on, sir…let's get you downstairs to your car so you can get there, too."

She got another forlorn whimper in response.

* * *

The lifeboat from the _Mar del Plata_ came down on a frontage road near the gates to the harbor, causing numerous vehicles to swerve to avoid hitting it. Some were lucky…and some were not so lucky.

Tyrone Shinwell, aka Big Daddy Shango, one of Norfolk's better-known pimps, cursed as his driver Jerome threw the car into a spin to avoid the boat that had just fallen out of the sky onto the road. The car came to a stop with harsh jolt and a sickening crunch that caused Jerome to curse a blue streak.

Big Daddy frantically threw open his door and climbed out of his car to survey the damage. The sight that greeted his eyes sent a sharp pain through his heart: the right front end of his black 1973 Stutz Blackhawk – his beloved Aretha – was caved in like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

Well, there was only one thing he could say to that.

"Oh, HELL no!"

Gunfire and explosions from a nearby group of warehouses that seemed to be quickly turning into a war zone drew his attention and led him to surmise where the boat had originated from. He reached back inside the car and popped the trunk lid, going around to the back and pulling out a veritable arsenal of weapons. He tossed a few to Jerome and motioned for his driver to follow him.

His Aretha would be avenged. It was time for Big Daddy to go calling.

* * *

DesRon 23 watched as the _Mar del Plata_ tore the bollards off the dock and then capsized as she made her final plunge, throwing about fifty screaming-in-terror Latinos into Norfolk Harbor.

"Huh…" Trigger's eyebrows went up in surprise, "whaddya know…da Mark XIVs actually woiked!"

"Will wonders never cease…" Converse mused.

"I pity the poor SOB who has to clean _that_ up," Stanly stated, causing several of his brothers to nod in agreement.

"Be a pretty penny in scrap value, though," Foote added.

"Tru dat, bro," Thatcher put in.

By this time, the group had traveled around the now-sunken _Mar del Plata_ and climbed up onto dry land one by one just past where the ship's bow lay. They stowed their torpedoes, but kept their turrets – or in Trigger's case, his deck gun – handy in case they needed protection. Thankfully, the rival gang factions were ignoring them, preferring to take their anger out on people they had a hope of hurting or killing.

"C'mon, bros…let's see what's inside," Spence led the others into the heavily-damaged warehouse, past the gun battle going on outside.

As they entered angry shouts erupted in Spanish, but it was quickly obvious that the voices were not addressing the destroyers; they were shouting towards the doors facing the street.

"Who's there?" one of the Cartel members yelled in Spanish.

"GIRL SCOUTS, BITCH!" a very large black man replied as he kicked open the door. The destroyers knew they could pick him out of a lineup anywhere; his suit jacket, fedora, and pants were royal purple, his dress shirt was bright red, and his silk tie and the silk band around his fedora were a matching gunmetal gray. But what _really_ made him stand out was the fact that he was carrying a Browning M2 like it weighed next-to-nothing.

The sight was so outlandish, even the Cartel men stopped and stared for a brief second.

Then Mr. Fashion Statement opened fire on anything that moved.

"DUCK, bros!" Foote yelled, and DesRon 23 hit the deck. Most of the Cartel members weren't as smart…or as lucky. The destroyers cringed as blood, brain matter, and pieces of body parts went everywhere.

"That's for my Aretha!" the crazed gunman shouted.

Spence was crouching on the floor with the rest of DesRon 23 when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. The huge shrink-wrapped pallet he was lying beside was packed solid…with _money_. Intrigued, he pulled out his pocketknife, made a slit in the shrink-wrap, and pulled out a bundle of money. Thumbing through the bundle only cause his eyes to go wide.

"DUDES! Check this out!" he called, and his brothers all scurried over.

"What's up, bro?" Claxton asked.

Spence motioned to the pallet behind him. "This pallet's packed tight with bundles of money!" He showed his brothers what he'd pulled from the pallet. "This is all thousand-dollar bills!"

"Oh, snap! Are you serious?!" Dyson gaped.

"Yeah!" Spence replied. He glanced around and got an interesting idea. "I just thought of something: when the cops get here, they're gonna take this as evidence and it'll never see the light of day again. It'll probably sit in an evidence locker for years before they finally destroy it or something."

"What's your point?" Aulick looked at him askance. He could tell by the gleam in Spence's eyes that his brother was up to something.

"Why don't we put it towards a worthy cause?"

"Which is?" Aulick asked, bracing himself for a crazy idea.

"I call it the 'DesRon 23 Most-Epically Awesome Party House'," Spence grinned, getting cheers or thumbs-up from most of his brothers.

"You gotta be kidding me," Aulick muttered, before gesturing at the huge pallet. "In case you've forgotten, probably every cent of this is blood or drug money!"

"So, let's do something good with it!" Charles Ausburne shot back. "I mean, think about it, man…those Cartel guys would be royally cheesed if they knew it was _their_ money that went towards something like this and they have no way of getting it back." He paused and then added, "Because let's face it: going against a kanmusu when you're a soft, squishy human is just stupid." He held up one of his five-inch mounts and grinned. "Any human that gets shot with one of these puppies is a pile of Ragu Super Chunky sauce."

"Dude!" Thatcher grimaced, "I wanted spaghetti when we got back…thanks a lot!"

"Sorry."

"Kinda inappropriate considering who we're fighting, but how about Mexican instead?" Foote joked.

There was a brief pause before all of them burst out laughing hysterically, Aulick included.

"Aw, man…that was so needed right now!" Converse gasped, wiping tears from his eyes.

"It was so wrong, but it was that level of wrong that was so funny you just have to laugh your ass off," Dyson put in.

"I know, right?" Claxton agreed, then glanced at the money pallet. "So, are we doing this or not?"

"Vote!" Spence stated. "All those in favor?"

"Wait a second!" Aulick squawked, "I'm the squadron flagship!"

"Yeah, we know…good for you, bro!" Spence replied. "Now, all those in favor?" He raised his hand.

"Aye!" Everyone but Aulick joined him.

"Dudes, this isn't a 'majority rules' kinda thing!" Aulick attempted to protest.

"Epically-Awesome Party House…" Spence trailed off tantalizingly.

Aulick sighed. "Fine…"

His brothers all cheered. "I love it when a plan comes together!" Spence grinned.

"And I pity the fool who opposes it!" Charles Ausburne added, complete with a Mr. T voice, causing several of his brothers to burst out laughing.

"Dude, don't channel _The A-Team_ ," Thatcher stated. "Not really your thing."

"But I have one proviso for agreeing to this," Aulick cautioned. "That guy who's shooting up the place, it sounds like someone he loved got hurt by this somehow, so it's only fair we give him some of this money, too."

His brothers nodded.

"I'll go along with that," Spence stated, popping his head up to look around. He sighted the man in question looking around for more targets. "Lemme get his attention, bros…the rest of you start loading up the cash."

Spence grabbed a white flag from his hold and waved it in the air, getting the man's attention.

"Hold fire, dude! We're not with the drug guys!"

* * *

Jerome could only gape in astonishment as a kid popped his head up from behind a group of crates.

"Smack my Mama on the ass!" He turned and yelled for Big Daddy Shango, who was on the other side of the building. "Boss, there's _kids_ in here!"

"Say _what_?!" Big Daddy headed over and was surprised when Spence waved at him. "The hell you doin' in here, kid?!"

Spence waved the two men over. "We're not exactly kids, man." He hoisted his five-inch hand turret. "Ya dig?"

Big Daddy and Jerome realized that though they might be able to kick ass and take names when it came to the Colombians, they had no chance against kanmusu, and dropped their weapons and raised their hands.

"No, wait, dude! There's no need to surrender!" Spence waved them off. "We're not cops, either!" He motioned the pair over to where the rest of DesRon 23 was crouched down.

"Holy shit!" Big Daddy gaped. "What're all y'all doin' in here?"

Aulick introduced himself and his brothers and gave the pair a brief rundown of their 'adventure' thus far. "…and then we found this," he gestured to the pallet of money. "We figured we could split it with you and you could use your portion to help your girlfriend get better."

"Boss…that entire thing's nothin' but money!" Jerome stated.

"Yeah," Charles Ausburne pulled a stack from the plastic. "Never thought in my lifetime I'd see a thousand-dollar bill, much less _this_ many, but there ya go."

Jerome made a sound similar to that of an excited puppy's whimper.

Big Daddy was still stuck on the fact that somehow these kids thought he had a girlfriend. "Where'd y'all kids get I had a girlfriend from?"

"You were mowing people down left and right and saying, 'That's for Aretha'," Converse replied.

"Yeah, so naturally we thought you were talkin' about your sweetie," Trigger put in.

The destroyers and submarine were surprised when the two men burst out laughing. Big Daddy had to admit it, he was getting to like these guys.

"Jerome, go get Aretha so we can load up our share," he ordered. "I'll stay here and help split it up."

The next ten minutes was spent divvying up the mountain of cash. The destroyers stored theirs in their holds – Big Daddy thought the faeries were pretty cool – while Big Daddy stacked his and Jerome's shares nearby.

The sound of an engine caused the group to look up. Jerome backed Aretha into the building and popped the trunk before pulling out the bottom to reveal a hidden compartment.

"Holy shit…a '73 Stutz Blackhawk! Elvis had one just like this!" Foote exclaimed.

"This car is AWESOME!" Thatcher seconded.

"I could see myself cruising around in something like this," Stanly mused. "Definitely something to look into."

Spence was grinning as he stowed his share of the money. "Hellooooo, Dodge Viper!" he crowed.

"You want a Dodge Viper?" Charles Ausburne asked, looking at his brother askance. "Why not a Porsche or a Ferrari?"

"I'm an American warship, bro…gotta buy American-made," Spence didn't bother looking up from his task.

Charles Ausburne nodded. "Point taken, dude."

Big Daddy grinned as he and Jerome started loading up their shares. "Man, with as much money as this is, I could buy a whole _fleet_ of Arethas!" he grinned.

"Or you could use it as a turning point," Aulick suggested.

"What do you mean?" Big Daddy looked curious.

"Well, depending on how many 'employees' you have, pay for rehab for any of them who need to get clean, and pay for the rest to attend school, either college or a vocational school."

"And then once it's known how you've helped better the lives of your 'employees', you can start on your long-term goal," Spence added.

"What's that?" Big Daddy appeared to be seriously considering Aulick's idea.

Spence grinned. "Ever considered running for Mayor?" When Aulick and several others looked at him like he was crazy, he added, "Come on…think about it for a minute! You know the streets, so you know how that part of the city works. You could use your connections to clean up the less-savory parts of it like the drug dealers and whatnot, and that right there's your promise to crack down on crime. By that time, you'll have sent all your 'employees' to school and/or rehab, so the people will see you place a high value on education and being drug-free." He gestured to Big Daddy's suit. "And let's face it, with your awesome fashion sense, you'll definitely stand out at campaign rallies."

Big Daddy preened at the comment. "Well, you know, I've always believed clothes do make the man."

"And it shows, my friend…it shows," Spence assured him, then grinned. "And besides, wouldn't Aretha look good with the title of the 'Mayor's Car'?"

Well, that sold it right there.

"Hey, Jerome!" Big Daddy grinned. "How'd you like to be the driver to the next Mayor of Norfolk?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure…sounds good, Boss." Jerome was apparently still stuck on the fact he'd just made twenty years' salary in as many minutes, judging by the dazed look he was giving his pile of money.

"Yeah, but if they got any hope of winning, they gotta get out of here before da cops arrive, so let's load 'em up and get 'em gone!" Trigger stated, starting to put money into the trunk's false bottom.

"Our honorary brother makes an excellent point," Spence stated as he started helping Trigger. With all the ships and both humans helping, Aretha was loaded within two minutes. Before leaving, Big Daddy took the time to shake hands with all of them.

"Stay cool, y'all," he stated as he got into his car.

"You too, _Mr. Mayor_ ," Spence grinned.

"Ooh, I _like_ the sound of that right there!" Big Daddy grinned.

"We'll be lookin' for you in the polls come November!" Thatcher replied as the two men headed off.

"Dudes," Charles Ausburne spoke up as DesRon 23 watched their new friends depart, "Anyone wonder if the cement-shoes guy made it out okay?"

* * *

McCrea emerged from behind the Russian warehouse, keeping his ears tuned to the sounds of chaos behind him. While part of him was screaming at running from a fight, the other parts were thanking their lucky stars they'd managed to escape from meeting an aquatic fate.

Noise from a nearby stack of shipping containers made him pause. He drew the gun he had and took aim.

"Norfolk Police! Come on out of there!"

To his surprise, Sergei – supported by Yeorgi – emerged, along with Josip. All three looked rather worse for wear; Yeorgi had various cuts and scrapes, Josip had been shot in his left shoulder, and Sergei's had taken a nasty bullet wound to his right knee. His eyes were glazed with pain and he appeared to be about to pass out from shock.

"Detective McCrea…Boss needs help." Yeorgi stated.

"Da…I have boo-boo," Sergei mumbled dazedly, his speech slurring.

"Judging from that wound, I'd say you're looking at a total knee replacement," McCrea replied.

"We would like to volunteer for Protect Witness program," Josip replied, grimacing as he accidentally jarred his wounded shoulder.

"Da," Yeorgi put in. "We tell all, just get Boss well again."

"Hold it right there!" the conversation was interrupted by a couple of shipgirls. "Hands where I can see 'em!" a brunette with glasses ordered.

"Yarr! No mercy will I be showin' ye, ye scurvy gutter dogs!" a smaller one, wearing an eyepatch and a skull-and-crossbones flag, brandished a cutlass in one hand and a gun turret in the other.

"I'm Norfolk P.D.," McCrea stated. "These guys have surrendered to me."

"That right?" the brunette asked. "Lemme see your badge!"

"I don't have it on me…I was working undercover!" McCrea snapped. "I'm not a rookie!"

"Ah, so ye be a spy, then?" Pirate Girl asked. "And how might we be knowin' that ye aren't tryin' to deceive us as well?"

The three triple turrets on the brunette's combat rig zeroed in on the four men. "All valid points, Kidd," she stated, before glowering at them. "Now move it!"

"Two of these guys have been shot," McCrea attempted to stall the girl. "Do you have ambulances coming?"

The girl nodded. "We'll get your buddies medical attention, now march!"

The group slowly made their way to the gated fence surrounding the warehouse area, where more police and government vehicles than McCrea had ever seen awaited them.

"Portland, Kidd…what the hell is this?" another shipgirl stormed over to them, and McCrea instantly knew who she was when he saw the '61' on her outfit.

"Yarr, matey! We have us some prisoners!" Kidd grinned. "Let us strip them of any plunder and they be all yours!"

"How about no stripping of any kind and you turn them over to the cops just as they are?" Iowa glanced at the group and then amended her statement with, "After they've all been to the hospital."

" _Val'kiriya_ , I has owie on knee," Sergei stated, pointing drunkenly at the body part in question before turning to Yeorgi. "I will sleep now…wake me when we get there," With that, he slumped unconscious in Yeorgi's arms.

"What the hell did he call me?" Iowa asked the others.

"I think he called you 'valkyrie' in Russian," McCrea stated, and both Yeorgi and Josip nodded.

"Detective, are you all right?" McCrea breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his Captain approaching.

"This guy's a cop?" Iowa asked.

McCrea's Captain nodded. "Captain Bill Jacobs, Norfolk Police, ma'am," he introduced himself and presented his badge. "I can vouch he's one of mine."

"Fine, that takes care of him…what about the Brothers Karamazov over here?" Iowa indicated the three Russians, the two conscious ones of which looked confused at their new titles.

"None of us are related," Josip spoke up, to which Iowa shot back, "Figure of speech!"

"The unconscious one we've been trying to nab for months," Jacobs replied. "The other two are lackeys of his. We'll take all three of 'em in."

"Da…we have surrendered to Detective McCrea," Yeorgi responded. "Now, may our boss receive medical attention for his knee?"

"All right, let's go!" Portland ordered, motioning Yeorgi and Josip along. Josip smiled charmingly at Portland as she herded them toward the mass of emergency vehicles.

"You know, Portland has only recently become my most-favorite city in America…"

"I'll just bet," the cruiser muttered.

McCrea watched them go before starting off himself. He was scheduled for some serious time off after his debriefing, but as there was no one waiting for him at home he wasn't in any hurry to get back to the station.

"McCrea, huh?" He glanced over to see Iowa had fallen into step beside him.

"Yep," McCrea nodded. "The name familiar to you?"

"My first Captain was named McCrea," Iowa replied. She shook her head. "Probably just a coincidence."

McCrea was quite pleased at how well he hid his grin. He knew Iowa had been summoned as a shipgirl; what he hadn't counted on was how incredibly beautiful her shipgirl form would be.

"Sorry, but I never met my great-grandfather," he stated, expecting a look of surprise from the girl beside him.

Instead, he got a smile that made his knees weak, and he knew he was hooked.

* * *

"…and that's the way it went," Aulick finished.

"So, in the process of rescuing someone you thought was in trouble, you inadvertently started a war between two very violent organized crime syndicates, which led to the near-destruction of a portion of the Norfolk waterfront," Robertson stated. "Does that about sum things up?"

"Yep," Spence nodded. "We saw someone in need and proceeded to kick ass and take names."

"Because that's what DesRon 23 does, and we're just awesome like that," Charles Ausburne put in.

Robertson sighed. The important thing to remember, he counseled himself, was that DesRon 23 was not in trouble with the law. Though, judging by the confusion around them, it could just be that the cops had yet to get around to charging them. _Best get them out of here before they're noticed_.

"Come on…back to the base," he announced, herding the nine destroyers and Trigger towards the caution tape.

"Hey, Admiral? Can we stop by the bank on our way?" Spence asked. "I need to make a deposit."

"That's doable," Robertson replied, completely missing the gleeful looks on the kanmusu's faces.

"Hey, if we shell out the cash, would you buy us some hard liquor?" Stanly inquired. "We'll give you a list of what all we want."

"We'll even throw in some extra so's you can buy you and Mrs. Robertson something," Thatcher threw in.

"Guys, you all look like you're between fourteen and sixteen years old," Robertson reminded them. "If I'm seen buying you liquor, it wouldn't matter if I had _ten_ stars on my collar; I'd be arrested and thrown in jail."

"We wouldn't want that," Claxton stated, his brothers all nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, we'll just get our booze another way," Foote added, causing Robertson to sigh. He was distracted by his phone vibrating, indicating he had a text. He pulled it out and glanced at the name of the sender; it was from Commodore Collingwood, Commander of the Royal Navy shipgirls:

 _ **Barham has discovered the joys of shopping at Tesco. Need advice yesterday! #Crisis #911 #HELP_PLEASE**_

Robertson cringed, but then brightened somewhat; the message showed him that at least he wasn't the only one facing problems that day.

* * *

 **UP NEXT:** Conflicts between governments, a new fleet idol, new arrivals, and an artist gets found out!

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	5. Idols, Families, Reunions and Artists

**DISCLAIMER:** See Chapter One.

I am SO SORRY it's taken this long to get this chapter out! Hopefully, my writer's block has deserted me and I can get back to writing on this more.

Thanks to **Danny79** , **ThatDrocker59** , and **KINGTIGERACE** for reviewing the last chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Idols, Families, Reunions, and Artists**

Avers idly glanced over the monthly reports as he sipped his mid-morning Pepsi. The naval base had now fully transitioned into a peacetime setting; summoning still occurred, but their rate had slowed down drastically. In Japan, only seventeen new shipgirls had arrived since Mancini and Ashigara's wedding – none larger than a destroyer – and while things had quieted down on the international scene, the chaos level on base remained about the same.

Ironically, this was _after_ he'd split up the Japanese kanmusu forces into three bases, opening two new locations in Yokosuka and Sasebo. Both cities had been ecstatic to have some kanmusu of their own, and welcomed any shipgirls assigned to those locations with open arms. Avers sent sixty-three to Yokosuka, and a further sixty-nine to Sasebo. It still left him with eighty-two kanmusu of his own, though two would be leaving for the new bases once they completed their training. Mamiya and Irako had also left, choosing to further expand the restaurant empire they shared with Hosho by opening branches in the new bases. Hosho herself had stayed on at Headquarters, as she hadn't wanted to uproot Hoppo, Darwin, and Rae. Each base had been assigned their own repair ship; this had been made possible when Mihara and Momotori, cancelled sister ships of Akashi, had somehow been summoned. Akashi had been over the moon at seeing her sisters, and while her girlfriend had also welcomed them with open arms, it was obvious that Yubari was somewhat jealous. Akashi had picked up on it as well, and therefore Avers said very little when the cloning machine was put back into use to give Yubari a sister ship. The new girl happily took the name Ayase, and could usually be found working right alongside her sister and Akashi in the repair yard.

Avers was in the middle of reviewing another supply report from Blaskewicz – idly listening to the giggles coming from where Oyodo was looking at pictures on Amagiri's Facebook page of her and her new pet, PT-109, which had come back as an absolutely adorable Corgi – when Nagato walked in, followed by two Russian naval officers.

"I have two Russian naval officers who wish to speak with you on a pressing matter, sir," she stated.

Avers glanced up from the report with interest and got to his feet. "Thank you, Nagato," he addressed his Chief-of-Staff briefly before turning to his guests. "Welcome, gentlemen," he greeted. "I am Fleet Admiral Matt Avers, Commander World Kanmusu Fleet. Welcome to our Headquarters."

" _Spasibo_ , sir," The senior-ranking of the two replied. "I am Captain 1st Rank Shastokov, Boris Vissarionovich. My compatriot is Captain 3rd Rank Senyavin, Mikhail Grigoryevich."

"Please, sit down," Avers shook their hands and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "May I offer you refreshments?"

"Thank you, no," Shastokov replied. "We have been sent here by the Russian government to collect some lost resources."

"And what might those resources be?" Avers was at a loss as to exactly what Shastokov was referring.

The two Russians looked extremely ill-at-ease. "That would be patrol vessel EK-31 and destroyer Verniy, known to you as –"

"Destroyer-escort Shimushu and destroyer Hibiki," Avers finished, to which Shastokov nodded. He sighed. "I'll tell you right now you're not getting either of them…Shimushu is still acclimating to this new time, and there's no way in hell Hibiki's leaving her family. Her parents would never allow it."

"Her parents?" Shastokov echoed blankly.

Avers explained the situation with DesDiv 6. "Now," he finished, "can either of you honestly see yourselves ripping a family apart so Russia can regain a shipgirl that wasn't even Russian to begin with?"

" _Nyet_ ," Shastokov replied. "I refuse to tear apart a family. Neither of them need to be moved from here."

"Agreed," Senyavin added as the two rose to their feet. "Though our superiors will not be pleased that we failed to accomplish our mission."

"Tell 'em to go suck a samovar," Avers growled, standing as well and shaking their hands. "If your higher-ups give you any trouble, give me a call and I'll hire you for the World Kanmusu Fleet. It pays the same as your current job and your sanities will probably take hits on a regular basis, but it's never dull."

* * *

Three days later, Shastokov could scarcely believe his eyes as he read a missive he'd just received from Moscow, hand-delivered by a short Captain-Lieutenant who looked like he'd have rather been ordered to permanent duty in Chernobyl than to bring tidings of bad news to a superior officer.

It had been decided that Russia's military was once again strong enough to handle any threat by itself, and no longer needed the shipgirls they had managed to acquire. Recognizing that attempting to scrap them would produce a major outcry from all corners of the world, President Vladimir Putin had decided to simply banish them from Russia. And he'd included both Shastokov and Senyavin in this dismissal, the Captain noted, as they had been assigned as the shipgirls' 'monitors' since the group had first arrived at Severomorsk. Also included in the 'vacation order' was the nervous officer standing before him. Shastokov was loath to break the news to the poor man; he didn't know if the young officer's nerves could take the news that his country had no longer had any use for him.

"Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, _Kapitan-leytenant_ ," he stated. "I trust by your demeanor that you are aware what this missive contains?"

"Yes, sir," the young man replied. "My apologies for bringing you unfavorable news."

"What is your name?"

" _Kapitan-leytenant_ Borodin, Pavel Ivanovich," the young man replied nervously.

"Are you aware this missive includes you in the dismissal from service?" Shastokov inwardly cringed as he watched the young man's composure falter.

"What?! I-I mean, sir?!" Borodin managed to halt a potential meltdown by remembering he was still in the presence of a senior officer.

Shastokov was about to reply when the door burst open and one of his battleships strolled in as though she hadn't a care in the world. She flopped down in a chair in front of Shastokov's desk, propped her feet on the edge, and smiled at him.

"Comrade _Kapitan_ ," she greeted. "I sensed you were in need of my presence." She turned and looked Borodin up and down like he was a delectable piece of meat and she was a hungry bear. "And whom might you be?"

Borodin introduced himself, trying very hard not to stutter. His nervousness apparently worked to his advantage, for the former Soviet battleship smiled.

"I will call you Comrade _Malen'kiy_ ," she purred.

"C-Comrade S-Small One?" Borodin stuttered.

The shipgirl nodded. "The name fits you…you are adorable and probably quite cuddly." She smiled. "I look forward to finding out for certain."

"That is enough, Marat," Shastokov admonished, sensing poor Borodin's mind was on the verge of shorting out at the notion that a battleship thought him 'cuddle-worthy'.

"Ach, why so serious, Comrade _Kapitan_?" Marat admonished him. "The sun is shining, we are all in good health, and it is another glorious day in the Motherland!"

"Perhaps not-so-glorious," Shastokov handed Marat the notification from Moscow. The battleship scanned it and scoffed.

"They are cutting face off to spite nose," she stated, and then leapt to her feet in enthusiasm. "We shall go abroad and share tales of the Motherland to all who will listen! For it is not the Motherland who betrayed us, but those who control her! And when they desire us to return, we will refuse! We will fight for Mother Russia from distant shores!" She turned to Borodin. "Come, Comrade Small One…we must inform the others of this news!"

"But Miss Marat, I –" Borodin stammered, looking quite lost.

Marat giggled and placed her finger against Borodin's mouth, silencing him. "Shush, Comrade…do not argue. You are part of our family now, and must learn to embrace the craziness." She grasped his hand and strode purposefully toward the door. "To the dorms! We must pack!" She was almost out the door when a thought suddenly occurred to her and she turned back to Shastokov. "Comrade _Kapitan_ …where might we be going?"

Shastokov had to think on that for a moment. While Germany was probably closest, several of the newly-summoned Russian shipgirls were still of the 'must-avenge-the-Motherland' mentality when it came to that country, and the last thing they needed right now was fights adding to the chaos of switching bases. That being said, there was really only one place they _could_ go.

"Tell everyone we'll be heading for America," he replied, and a broad smile came over Marat's face.

" _Prekrasno_!" The battleship exclaimed. "We go to America, land of dreams and home of Whopper!" She ran out the door, dragging a still-weakly-protesting Borodin behind her.

Shastokov sighed. He knew better than to think the expulsion order would adversely affect Marat; the battleship would eagerly embrace her adopted country.

Marat was ready for America…the question that remained was whether America was ready for Marat.

* * *

Thankfully, the task of getting everyone packed up and ready to move was accomplished relatively quickly. The government had given the shipgirls five days to be out of Severomorsk, but with the transport plane on standby the entire group – three humans, five battleships, one battlecruiser, two heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, one protected cruiser, nine destroyers, and one submarine – were ready in three. Now began the process of loading everyone on board.

"Everyone, please listen!" Shastokov's Secretary, protected cruiser Aurora, called out over the din of excitement that seemed to permeate the designated assembly area. "We will be departing momentarily, so please make sure you have all your belongings before embarking!"

Shastokov glanced around for his third-in-command, Gangut. The battleship had disappeared earlier that morning, and no one had seen her since. He noticed six of the destroyers were chatting excitedly amongst themselves, being watched over by two others, Novik and Leningrad. The last destroyer – Tashkent – was sitting in her seat, pouting; she'd put up a major fuss about being forced to return to America; something about the U.S. Navy destroyers having taken a liking to her while simultaneously driving her crazy, and she was loath to return now that she'd finally managed to get away from them.

The lone submarine of the group, S-13, was bundled in a heavy coat that appeared three sizes too big for her, therefore hiding her completely from the rest of the world. Her experiences during World War II – especially her sinking of the _Wilhelm Gustloff_ and _General von Steuben_ – didn't just haunt her, they'd absolutely traumatized her – finding the Wikipedia article on the former's sinking had only worsened things a hundredfold when she'd seen the death toll figures – and she now spent her days staring vacantly at nothing, intermittently swigging vodka straight from the bottle. The only emotion she'd shown was when Senyavin had escorted her to Bogoslovskoye cemetery in St. Petersburg to visit the grave of her wartime captain, Alexander Marinesko. Shastokov had been left wondering whether the visit to Marinesko's gravesite had done the subgirl more harm than good, for Senyavin had stated that when S-13 approached the grave, she'd gone into a crying fit that seemed more like a complete and severe emotional breakdown. After crying herself out, she'd then retreated into the emotionless mask she was currently portraying. She responded to orders normally, but hadn't spoken a single word since being summoned, communicating purely by nods or shakes of the head and by shrugging her shoulders. Shastokov prayed the forced relocation would be of some help to the poor girl, for if she continued like she was he'd have no choice but to hand her a psychiatric discharge.

Movement in the doorway brought him out of his thoughts. Gangut had returned and was looking quite pleased with herself; Shastokov inwardly groaned, for experience had taught him that shipgirls looking pleased with themselves usually meant trouble for those assigned to mind them.

This time proved to be no different.

"Comrades!" Gangut announced. "I have brought friends to go to America with us!" She turned to the five girls who followed her into the waiting area. "Please, Comrades, introduce yourselves!"

"Battlecruiser Admiral Ushakov! Ready to serve once again!"

"Battlecruiser Admiral Lazarev! I heed the call of Mother Russia!"

"Battlecruiser Admiral Nakhimov! Enemies of the Supreme Soviet will fall before my missiles!"

"Battlecruiser Pyotr Velikiy! I have returned to claim victory!"

"Aircraft carrier Admiral Flota Sovetskogo Soyuza Kuznetsov! Victory for the Motherland!"

Shastokov felt faint as he made his way over to Gangut and the new arrivals, all of whom saluted him as he approached. He returned their salute and turned to the battleship.

"How did they get here?"

Gangut smiled. "Simple…I broke into summoning room, turned on machine, and played Soviet anthem into void in hopes of gaining a few more ships before we departed." She had the decency to look embarrassed. "I had no idea these were the ships that would respond."

"And what was the reaction from the higher-ups when you informed them of the identities of Russia's newest shipgirls?" _I can't wait to hear this one,_ Shastokov thought.

Gangut scoffed. "Those higher-ups wish to cast us aside as though we are no longer needed. I gather that these five shipgirls would be given same treatment. Therefore, I did not see fit to inform higher-ups that five new girls had even been summoned." She grinned. "Moskva has no idea they're here. Shh!" She brought a finger to her lips. "Is secret."

The five newcomers giggled at the battleship's actions. Shastokov vaguely wondered if how he was currently feeling was what having a stroke felt like.

"Welcome back!" Aurora greeted, ignoring Shastokov's plight. "Please board the plane…we do not have time to waste."

"Comrade Aurora, do I have time to go and pay outstanding rental bill on dacha?" Marat asked.

" _Nyet_ , Comrade Marat…you should have taken care of that before now!" the armored cruiser chastised. "Our departure is imminent!"

" _Prekrasno!_ " the battleship grinned as she helped Novik and Leningrad shepherd the other destroyers onto the plane.

"Come, Comrade Captain!" Gangut pulled a dazed Shastokov along. "We must leave before our deception is discovered!"

"Deception?" Senyavin interjected as he entered the conversation. Having been across the room at the time of Gangut's return, he'd only heard the new girls' introduction, not the circumstances surrounding their sudden appearance.

Gangut briefly explained the situation, ending with, "It is minor matter, Comrade Captain…nothing to worry about!"

Senyavin begged to differ and was about to inform Gangut of this when Admiral Ushakov and Admiral Lazarev appeared on either side of him.

"Hello…I don't believe we've been introduced," Admiral Ushakov purred, looping her arms around one of Senyavin's.

"Captain 2nd Rank Senyavin, Mikhail Grigoryevich," Senyavin stated. "I am Executive Officer of the Russian Shipgirl Program."

Admiral Ushakov turned to Admiral Lazarev and grinned mischievously. "He is cute, no?" Admiral Lazarev giggled and nodded. "Oh, very." She smirked. "We will share him, _da_?"

" _Da_ ," Admiral Ushakov confirmed.

Senyavin had no response; his brain – like most other men's brains would in such a situation – had shut down upon hearing the two gorgeous shipgirls mention the word 'share'.

* * *

Robertson took a fortifying sip of his drink and looked out at the reception with exhausted eyes. The ceremony that had just concluded had seen nearly every one of the U.S. Navy shipgirls promoted several ranks – three out of the now-six Iowas had just had four stars pinned on them – but a hefty increase in rank didn't seem to matter a whit to most of them; they still acted the same, only now they were going to have even more money to fund their exploits.

A particularly disturbing fact was that DesRon 23's flagship Aulick had just been made a Vice Admiral. All but two of the brothers were now officers; only Spence and Thatcher – both sunk during the Pacific War – had remained in the enlisted ranks. The nine of them plus Trigger now lived off-base in what they called the 'DesRon 23 Most-Epically Awesome Party House', a ten-bedroom vacation home in Virginia Beach – Robertson still couldn't figure out how they'd managed to pay _cash_ for the _$6.6 million-dollar_ house – that they'd customized into every college frat boy's dream. The mansion had originally had twenty bedrooms and twenty-four baths, but the brothers had paid to have the bedrooms and bathrooms redone. The house now consisted of ten luxury apartments with communal living areas. Add said dream house to the fact that each one of them now had personal vehicles that any car collector would be proud to have in their own garage – at least three of the group favored Shelby Cobras – Navy expense cards that they'd customized to look like the black credit cards that only Bill Gates-level people owned, the sudden influx of money, and a crap-ton of Navy back-pay, and the ten shipboys were living better than some Hollywood celebrities.

Now their group had managed to gain another follower: submarine U.S.S. Espada (SS-355). The cancelled Balao-class submarine appeared to bear no ill will towards the U.S. Navy for canceling his construction, and was embracing life in the 21st century to the fullest. The only downside – in the top brass' point of view, anyways – was that Espada was being taught about life in the 21st century by DesRon 23, and the admiral shuddered to think how he would turn out because of it.

Life at Norfolk Naval Base had not been quiet since the war ended, though since DesRon 23 moved off-base the nighttime levels of 'wild and woolly' had decreased dramatically; Robertson pitied the residents of Virginia Beach, who had seen an upswing in their local chaos since the 'Most-Epically Awesome Party House' had begun operations. Eight vessels – Iowa's five sister ships, as well as escort carrier Gambier Bay (immediately taken in by the Taffies and White Plains), Saratoga's sister Lexington (CV-2), and Intrepid – had been summoned, but Robertson knew Norfolk would be getting quite a few more personnel in the next few days with the Russian shipgirls arriving soon.

Having so much on his mind was, Robertson later reflected, a perfectly valid reason for him completely missing the fact that DesRon 23 was – one by one - skipping out on the reception.

* * *

Aulick strolled into the hotel bar and glanced around, noticing how several women looked him up and down once they noticed the brand-new three-star shoulder boards his dress white uniform was sporting. He'd never expected to wear this rank, but now that he had it, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to take full advantage of it.

"Jack and Coke," he informed the bartender as he slid onto a stool.

The bartender looked at him askance. "Seriously? Are you even old enough?"

Aulick rolled his eyes and produced his ID. The bartender took one look at it and scoffed. "Yeah, right…nice try, kid." He pulled out a can of Coke and passed it to Aulick. "This is as strong as you're getting."

Aulick merely pulled out his phone. "Smile," he ordered, snapping a picture and taking note of the name on the man's nametag. When the bartender looked as though he was going to complain, Aulick held up a hand. "Cut me a break, dude…I just got this phone and I'm trying all the features out on it. I'll delete the pic, don't worry."

The bartender nodded and moved off to serve another customer. Aulick pulled up his Facebook page and posted the bartender's photo:

 _ **This is Gary, a bartender at the Imperial Hotel in Norfolk, VA. He refused to serve alcohol to a three-star admiral who is also a combat veteran. Make this twat-waffle famous, and DON'T patronize this hotel! #PissPoorService #DesRon23 #LiveFast_DieHard_TakeManyWithYou #31KnotOutlaws #ArleighsRebels**_

After posting it on his personal Facebook page as well as the DesRon 23 group page, he repeated the process on both Twitter and Instagram. That done, he idly sipped his drink as he pondered making it an early night…not like anything was really happening.

Movement to his right caused him to glance in that direction, and he very nearly did a double-take at the sight of a woman in a floor-length, cherry red evening gown. She was reed-thin, her dark brown hair done up in an attractive twist, and had beautiful blue eyes. The woman noticed him looking at her and glanced over, doing a double-take herself at Aulick's uniform before recovering and ordering a drink for herself.

"Cosplay?" she asked. Aulick sighed. Sometimes his new rank was more trouble than it was worth.

"No," he replied, extending his military ID to her, "it's real. And so is that, despite what the jerk of a bartender says." He shook his head. "People like that wouldn't even believe I was an actual naval officer even if I got my CO to walk in here and vouch for me."

The woman laughed. "You're one of those ship-people persons…that's why you look so young."

Aulick nodded and extended his hand. "Fletcher-class destroyer U.S.S. Aulick, DD five-six-nine. I might look like I'm fifteen, but I'm actually fifty-seven."

"Jenni McAlister," his incredibly attractive companion replied and then joked, "and if you could bottle the secret to looking so young, you'd be a millionaire."

Aulick shrugged. "Meh, no need…I'm already there." When Jenni looked at him questioningly, he grinned. "When I was summoned, the Navy shelled out back pay for my entire career. I was in service forty-nine years, so yeah…I'm living quite comfortably as of late." He took a swig of his Coke. "What's your story?"

Jenni looked confused. "My story?"

"In other words, why are you sitting here looking beyond gorgeous and drowning your sorrows instead of at some party fending off guys left and right?" Aulick had to admit he was quite pleased with himself for delivering the line with a straight face and without stuttering. He'd be the first to admit he wasn't exactly Mr. Smooth when conversing with beautiful women.

He considered it a victory, though, when Jenni blushed and ducked her head at his compliment.

"I was attending one of the weddings held in a ballroom here, when my boyfriend, well actually," she amended with a bitter smile, "my _ex_ -boyfriend now, decided he preferred to party in a coat closet with one of the bridesmaids instead of out on the dance floor with me." She sighed. "He didn't even have the decency to wait until dinner was over…I caught them sneaking into the closet on my way back from the restroom even before the bride and groom were announced."

"What an idiot," Aulick muttered, and Jenni smiled appreciatively.

"Thanks…he just got suckered in like a lot of other guys would by a blonde with a petite body and surgically-enhanced…" she gestured to her chest and made a bulging-outward motion to indicate the unknown woman's considerable bust size.

"I gotcha," Aulick nodded. "Battleship guns on a destroyer hull."

Jenni giggled. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

Aulick tamped down the instinct he had to blurt out that the sound of her laugh was the cutest thing he'd heard in a long time.

"Listen," he began, forcing himself to look casual and maintain his calm, cool, and collected squadron flagship outward image while on the inside he was shaking like a leaf from nerves, "since your meal was rudely interrupted due to your date thinking south of the border, and me just coming from a ceremony where the amount of food they were serving wouldn't satisfy a freakin' bird," again he was favored by Jenni's adorable giggle, "how about I buy you dinner?"

Jenni grinned at him, a playful gleam in her beautiful eyes. "Why Admiral, are you asking me out?"

Aulick nodded, keeping a tight grip on his nerves. "Yeah, I believe I am."

The gorgeous brunette leaned closer, and Aulick forced himself not to lose himself in the scent of her perfume. "Do you think you can handle me?" It was obvious Jenni was messing with him, as she was biting her lip to keep from laughing; Aulick thought it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life and decided to try and give back as good as he got.

He leaned towards her and grinned what he and his brothers had started calling their 'DesRon 23 Grin'. "Baby, I'm a World War II destroyer…I can handle anything you dish out."

His gorgeous companion's grin turned decidedly wicked. "I think I'll have to accept that challenge," she replied, and Aulick did a happy dance in his head at having said the right thing at exactly the right time.

"Yo, barkeep!" he called down the bar as he pulled out his Navy credit card. "Lemme settle up!"

The bartender walked over to where they were and rolled his eyes when Aulick extended the card to him. "Seriously, kid? A fake card, too? Come on."

Aulick rolled his eyes. "Dude, just swipe the thing…if it doesn't go through, call your manager and have me thrown out. Put her drink on my tab, too," he motioned to Jenni's glass.

The bartender seemed to relish the idea of throwing Aulick out and swiped the black card. Aulick quickly took his phone out and snapped the picture of the man's stunned expression when the card cleared with no problems whatsoever. _Meme gold for later_ , he thought as the bartender came back with a receipt for Aulick to sign.

"S-sorry about the mix-up earlier, Admiral," now all easygoing smiles when he realized he needed to do some serious brown-nosing to make up for how he'd previously treated what he now knew to be a VIP. "You can't be too careful nowadays with all the fake IDs and identity theft schemes going around."

Aulick smiled as he eased himself off his barstool and then – ever the officer and a gentleman – turned and helped Jenni down from hers, for which he was awarded a pleased smile and a very attractive blush. "No problem, dude," he replied, knowing that the asshole was simply fishing for a nice tip. He leaned over and signed the receipt, leaving the space for the tip blank. "You'll know next time." _And definitely by your next shift, when your manager calls you in for a chat about the shitload of bad publicity you just brought this place._

He and Jenni turned to go when the bartender called him back. "Admiral, you forgot to fill in the tip portion of the bill."

"Here's a tip for ya," Aulick replied as he offered his arm to Jenni, "Never eat soup with a knife."

The reward for his reply was a look of fury from the bartender and another adorable giggle from his date.

* * *

Charles Ausburne locked his car and headed toward the entrance of Pete's Diner, the 24-hour 1950s dive that he and his brothers frequented on an almost-daily basis. They'd discovered the place by accident while on one of their explorations of Norfolk and considered it one of their all-time-favorite places to sit for hours and hang out on their days off. The owner, Pete, was a retired Navy Chief who – upon learning who the brothers were – spent as much time as he could chatting with them every time they came in.

The Fletcher-class destroyer tugged awkwardly at the uniform collar of his dress whites. He hated dressing up for stuffed-shirt ceremonies and glad-handing with top brass people who didn't know him from Adam, all because they wanted to meet a decorated ship. _Although_ , he mused, casting a furtive glance down at his ribbon rack and seeing the ribbons for the Distinguished Service Medal, the Combat Action Ribbon with twenty-two service stars (one for each time his hull saw action) and the Presidential Unit Citation, _if I were them, I'd want to meet certified bad-asses like me and my brothers, too, so I can't fault 'em too much._

He pushed open the door to the diner and immediately saw the potential for trouble. Three sailors were crowding around one of the waitresses, who – judging by the nervous look on her face – was not appreciating the attention. _If there's a silver lining in a situation like this_ , Charlie mused, _it's that none of them is higher than E-5_. He glanced down at his own shoulders that bore the insignia of a Lieutenant Junior Grade. _Time to put this stripe-and-a-half to use_.

He walked over to the trio and stood behind them. "There a problem here, gentlemen?" he asked, using his best 'officer voice'.

The men turned, seemingly prepared to tell the interloper to get lost, when they saw the rank on Charlie's shoulders. The leader of the group, a Petty Officer 2nd Class, shook his head.

"No, sir…no problem here."

"Where are you guys from?" Charlie asked, wanting to know who to contact should this turn ugly.

" _U.S.S. Vicksburg_ ," the PO2 replied. "We're in port for a couple days before heading up to New London."

Charlie made a show of glancing at his watch. "It's almost 2200…I think it's time you guys set course back to your ship, don't you?"

The PO2 wanted to argue, but then he noticed the special DesRon 23 command insignia that the ten brothers had been authorized to wear. Realizing this was a shipboy who could kick his ass on a dime and not some upstart junior officer that he and his buddies could easily take on, he swallowed the sarcastic retort and nodded.

"Aye, sir."

"Give me your names," the destroyer ordered. "Crazy people come out at night and I want to make sure you get back to your ship safely."

The trio looked pissed at this, knowing Charlie meant he would be checking up on them and that the reason he gave – wanting to make sure they were safe – was a complete coverup. Nonetheless, they grudgingly did as he requested. Once the destroyer got acknowledgement from his Communications fairy that their names had been recorded for future reference, he nodded in satisfaction.

"Have a safe trip, gentlemen…fair winds and following seas."

The trio nodded, their leader casting a black look over his shoulder as they left the diner. Charlie watched as they went over to a car in the parking lot and got in but made no move to leave. The destroyer made a note to watch the vehicle before turning to the waitress they'd been harassing. Hayden James was a sweet girl who had waited on him and his brothers several times before, and it made Charlie's blood boil at the thought of someone hurting her.

"Are you all right, Hayden?" he asked, smirking inwardly at the girl quickly averting her eyes from where she'd been checking him out in his dress whites.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "Thanks for coming in when you did, Charlie…I don't know if they would've taken 'no' for an answer." She glanced at the clock and swore under her breath. "Shit…I get off at ten and they're still in the parking lot. I don't want any trouble here…Pete's been so good with working my shifts in around my school schedule and all."

"Get us both a drink, clock out, and then come sit down," Charlie advised. "I've got a plan."

While Hayden went to clock out and get their drinks, Charlie headed to the brothers' usual booth at the back of the diner and took a seat, pulling out his phone and calling the local police department. Relaying the encounter to the dispatcher and learning a patrol car would be sent to the diner, he thanked her and hung up right before Hayden reappeared with their drinks.

"Thanks," he replied as she slid into the booth across from him. He filled her in on his plan while they waited for the police to arrive, and when they did Charlie explained the situation to them. Both officers left the diner and headed over to the vehicle in question, and after a brief conversation, Hayden and Charlie saw it leave the lot. As it departed, the destroyer used his communications equipment to send a message to the _Vicksburg_ , listing the three sailors' names and briefly detailing the situation, advising the Officer of the Day that the Norfolk Police Department would have a report on file if they wanted to know more. The officers came back inside the diner and Charlie posed for pictures with them, he and Hayden both thanking the officers before they left.

"I think you're okay now," Charlie glanced out the window and didn't see the sailors' car. "I'll still make sure you get home all right, if you don't mind."

Hayden shook her head, looking uncertain. "I dunno if I'll feel safe at my place…they could be out there where we can't see them, waiting for me to leave so they can follow me."

"Good point," Charlie mused, then grinned. "I might have a solution for you, though."

Hayden's inquiring look was all he needed to elaborate.

* * *

The following morning, Aulick sleepily made his way downstairs to the kitchen, his radar piercing the fog of sleep to zero in on the box of Fruity Pebbles in the kitchen cabinet. Pouring some milk on his cereal, he slid onto a stool at the kitchen island and started chowing down. As the sugar hit his system, his mind began clearing, allowing him to look back over the events of the previous evening. He recalled the attention they'd attracted upon entering one of Norfolk's premier steakhouses; Aulick had spoken to the manager and requested that while he appreciated people wanting to thank him for his service, he wished for he and his date to be left alone. At the end of the evening, he'd escorted Jenni to her apartment, and while the 'sailor on leave' part of him _really_ hoped to be invited in for a drink, the rational part of him knew it was way too early in their relationship to think about anything physical. He considered the brief kiss she'd given him before walking inside a major victory.

One by one, his brothers made their way downstairs, murmuring greetings to one another or emitting caveman grunts in the case of those who needed coffee before functioning normally.

"You're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, bro," Spence addressed Stanly, who was already wide-awake and dressed.

"I've been up since 0430," Stanly replied. "Wanted to get an early start on the day, you know?"

"You've been chatting with your girlfriend," Foote grinned, and Stanly glowered at him.

"She's not my girlfriend!" he denied. "I mean, I wouldn't _mind_ if she was, because she seems like an awesome person, but she lives all the way up in Wisconsin, so it'd be kinda hard seeing her. And we all know women love attention." He got several nods and murmurs of assent. "How can I pay attention to her like she deserves when she's where she is and I'm all the way on the East Coast?"

"Dude's got a point," Dyson stated.

Further conversation was interrupted when Charles Ausburne wandered into the kitchen and stopped short in surprise.

"Oh…you're all here," he laughed nervously.

"Why wouldn't we be, bro?" Spence asked.

"Yeah, it's morning, dude," Thatcher responded.

"And you know me, I gotta have my Fruity Pebbles in da mornin'!" Trigger put in, taking a big spoonful of the brightly-colored cereal as he grinned at Charlie.

"Oh yeah, that's right…it's morning…silly me, ha-ha…" Charlie laughed nervously, glancing back towards the staircase as if looking for something.

"You all right, dude?" Converse asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah…I'm fine…" Charlie assured the others, still looking nervous as hell.

The reason for his nervousness made itself known as Hayden descended the stairs, an uncertain look coming over her face when she saw the kitchen full of curious Fletcher-class destroyers, nearly all of them grinning like idiots.

"Um, morning…" she trailed off, blushing attractively.

"Huh? What'd I miss?" Trigger looked up from his mountainous bowl of cereal and noticed their unexpected guest. "Oh! Mornin', cutie!" he grinned and waved, figuring this turn of events was much more interesting than the maze on the back of the cereal box.

Charlie cringed inwardly at all the attention they were getting; while he knew his brothers wouldn't mess with Hayden too much beyond light teasing, he knew he was going to be razzed mercilessly once she was gone.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got class in two hours, so I need to head out," Hayden stated, turning to Charlie and smiling at him before leaning in and kissing his cheek. "Thanks for letting me stay here last night, Charlie…I'll call you later, 'k?" She walked out as Charlie gazed after her, nodding dazedly as the others made teasing catcalls.

"Damn, son! You and Hayden? Nice!" Spence grinned.

"Huh? Oh, no, dude…nothing like that, honest," Charlie replied, then relayed to his brothers what had happened the night before. "So, she ended up crashing here because she was afraid to go home…she took the bed and I took the couch." He conveniently left out the part where he'd gotten up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and as he passed by the bed after completing his business, Hayden had grabbed his arm and asked him to stay. One thing was certain after the previous night: waking up with her curled around him like a spider monkey was one experience he wouldn't mind repeating.

* * *

Rhodes and his brother walked through the Naval Base to their new assignment. The human personnel stationed at the base were healthy for the most part, so the two Americans had had little to do outside standard physicals. This meant they were free to train the base's three hospital ships that had been summoned. Asahi Maru, Hikawa Maru, and Takasago Maru had been given Medical commissions, but due to their medical knowledge being nearly seventy-five years in the past, they hadn't yet been allowed to see patients by themselves. Rhodes knew the trio had quite a ways to go on that front, especially considering they seemed in awe of all the improvements that had been made since 1945; an entire morning had once been spent with the three hospital ships in rapt contemplation of the wonder that was the digital thermometer.

Rhodes was jarred from his thoughts by two shipgirls leaping from the nearby bushes. One was a redhead dressed in wartime gray, while the other sported green hair and wore a dress with a camouflage pattern.

"Good mornin', ladies!" Jimmy greeted the pair with an easygoing smile.

"Ha! We surprised you, didn't we, Doc?" the redhead gloated, waving a single six-inch gun around excitedly. "You never saw us coming, did you?"

"You got me again," Rhodes confirmed. "You two truly are masters of disguise."

"Just like we were back in the war!" the green-haired girl put in. "We were the terrors of the Indian Ocean!"

A third shipgirl – a blonde also wearing wartime gray – emerged from the nearby dorm and glanced around. Spotting the group, she immediately headed over, blushing in embarrassment.

"Doctor Rhodes-san," she greeted the brothers quietly, "I must once again apologize for the…exuberance…of my elder sisters."

"No harm done, Gokoku Maru-san," Rhodes replied. "These two," he motioned to her sisters, "were just practicing their surprise attack techniques, is all."

"And we're almost as good as we once were, right nee-sama?" The redhead – Aikoku Maru – grinned, to which her sister Hokoku Maru nodded.

"Hai! Soon we'll even be able to sneak up on great ships like Yamato-sama!"

"I dunno if I'd try that," Jimmy cautioned.

"We're not scared of her!" Aikoku Maru replied. "Right, nee-sama?" She turned to face her sister when the expected instant agreement did not materialize and found Hokoku Maru looking uncertain.

"Yamato-sama is the greatest of all battleships," Hokoku Maru stated. "Do you think we can take her?"

"Pfft, of course we can!" Aikoku Maru grinned. "We're Japan's most-successful armed merchant cruisers…nearly 32,000 tons damaged, sunk, or captured!"

"Yeah, but the key word there is 'merchant'," Rhodes replied. "Y'all might have the spirit, there's no denyin' that, but merchants don't really stand a chance against battleships."

"Doctor Rhodes-san is entirely correct," Gokoku Maru informed her sisters, before grabbing their hands and pulling them away. "Going against the world's most-powerful battleship is not something two merchant vessels need to even consider. Now let's go…Ashigara-sempai doesn't like it when we're late for class."

"You're right," Aikoku Maru stated. "Nyaaa~…I _hate_ extra homework!" she whined as her youngest sister pulled her and Hokoku Maru away.

The two doctors smiled as they watched the armed merchant cruiser trio head off to school. "Those two sure are a lively pair," Jimmy commented as they resumed their walk

"Ironic that the youngest of the trio is the most level-headed," Rhodes replied. "But it's good they have at least one person to keep them grounded."

"Kinda like how the Admiral tries to do with his wife and her sisters?" Jimmy asked, to which his brother shrugged.

"I guess so…though since he's got his own family and Hiei's married, he's kind of left our two to their own devices." He smiled. "Which isn't bad as out of the four of them they appear to be the two calmest ones."

Jimmy grinned. "Our girls are fun, aren't they?"

Rhodes nodded as the duo walked up the steps of the medical building. "Life's definitely gotten more interesting now that we've joined the World Kanmusu Fleet. Makes you look forward to each day, as you'll never know what's around the next corner."

As they entered the medical department, they were met with the sight of Asahi Maru operating the x-ray machine while Hikawa Maru lay on the table and Takasago Maru watched in wonder.

"Look, Rhodes-san!" Asahi Maru exclaimed. "We're taking turns on the x-ray machine!"

Rhodes smiled politely and glanced at the readout, then did a double-take upon seeing the deck plans of an _Hikawa Maru_ -class ocean liner instead of a human skeleton.

 _Well,_ he thought, laughing inwardly. _This is new_.

* * *

Elsewhere on base, another family was starting the day. Harder yawned blearily as he reached for the coffeepot, easily dodging his and Minazuki's adopted children as they raced around getting ready for school.

"Ahh, Sado-sama can't wait!" Sado bounced in her chair as she ate her cereal. "Today Naka-sempai is going to let me sing one of her songs with her!"

"And Fubuki-sempai is going to help me and Kunashiri-chan with gunnery practice, su!" Shimushu added.

"Mutsuki-sempai said she would work with me and Daito-chan on our depth-charging skills," Hiburi smiled.

"That sounds like fun," Tsushima murmured softly, gazing at her sisters with a fond smile.

Harder flopped down in one of the kitchen chairs and took a large gulp of coffee, even as Matsuwa crawled into his lap and cuddled close.

"Do I have to go to school?" she begged. "I'm not going to do good…I just know it! I'd rather stay here with you and Mina-chan."

"Nonsense," Harder muttered. "You're gonna go out there and kick ass and take names like all the other shipgirls, and I know for a fact all your sisters are gonna be right there with you to cheer you on, am I right?" He glanced around the table and received seven enthusiastic nods.

"Harder-san's right, Matsuwa-chan," Etorofu chimed in. "You'll be fine…after all, you know everyone in class, and they always cheer you on."

"See? You've got nothing to worry about," Harder patted Matsuwa's head, and the little kaibokan quivered in pleasure. He was so preoccupied with encouraging Matsuwa that he didn't see Sado sneaking towards the refrigerator; she'd already gotten the bottle of chocolate syrup out and was about to add some to her glass of milk when another voice from the doorway of the kitchen stopped her in her tracks.

"Sado, put that back…you don't need that much sugar first thing in the morning." Minazuki walked into the room and shooed Sado back to her seat. She ran her left hand through her sleep-mussed hair, the large diamond ring on one of her fingers catching the light as she did so. Harder had proposed three weeks ago, not wanting his beautiful destroyer girlfriend to live in sin when they had eight adopted kids. The fact that he was also deeply in love with her was a given.

"Morning, Handsome," she purred and Harder leaned up to meet her in a kiss.

"Eww, Mina-domo! No kissy stuff, su!" Shimushu complained, Sado agreeing with her while their sisters giggled, and Tsushima sighed happily at the affection between her adoptive parents.

"Morning, Beautiful," Harder replied. "And good morning to you, too," he addressed the barely-visible bump on Minazuki's stomach before kissing it, causing the destroyer and the eight kaibokans to giggle. Faint sounds of construction could be heard in response, and Harder smiled slightly. He still couldn't believe he was an adoptive father to eight rambunctious escort ships, two of whom he'd sunk during the war. He and Minazuki had been in the commissary one day when Matsuwa had come in, gotten her tray and walked right over to their table. Before either of them could say anything, the little shipgirl had crawled into his lap and clung to him like a lifeline, her sad eyes and trembling form making it impossible for them to ask her to eat in her own chair. Shimushu, Kunashiri, and Etorofu had come in looking for her within twenty minutes, and after introductions had been made and Matsuwa softly but firmly stating that – even though Harder had sunk her during the war – she felt safe with him and Minazuki, it was decided by the other three kaibokans that they plus any sister ships who might come along in the future would stick with Harder and Minazuki as well. Harder had thought about protesting, but after getting puppy eyes first from the little waif on his lap, then the three sitting at the table, and _then_ his own girlfriend, he relented.

The group moved into a house near the Blaskewicz family soon after, and were quickly joined by Sado and Tsushima, then Hiburi and Daito. News that between the three classes there were seventeen sister ships – plus two more unsummoned classes totaling twenty-eight more vessels – that might still show up did not bode well concerning the amount of space in the house. Minazuki announcing she was pregnant caused rapturous celebration among the eight escorts – along with the mandatory consumption of celebratory ice cream – and Harder to start thinking about looking at some larger homes off-base.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harder glanced to his left to see Minazuki smiling at him.

He returned her smile and replied, "I was just thinking that somewhere, my Uncle Charlie is laughing."

* * *

Later that day, the Sendai sisters walked into the commissary for lunch. After getting their food, they made their way to a table, noticing a young man sitting by himself nearby. His tray was empty, but he was hunched over a sketchpad like it held the meaning of life.

"Who's that?" Naka asked her sisters, motioning to the young man. "He's cute."

Jintsu sighed – Naka giggling at her reaction – before briefly gazing off into the distance as she inquired with her crew about the young man's identity.

"Lieutenant Commander Maeda* informs me that his name is John Rhodes."

"Rhodes…" Sendai mused, trailing off in thought before the name clicked. "Isn't that the name of the two American doctors who're overseeing the medical department now?"

" _Hai_ ," Jintsu replied. "He's their younger cousin."

Sendai grunted in acknowledgement, seemingly dismissing the information from her mind, while Naka wondered aloud if John might be interested in being a guest on the next episode of her podcast. As they watched, John glanced up at the clock on the nearby wall before returning his attention to his drawing. Suddenly, his eyes flashed back up to the clock and he uttered a muffled curse before gathering up his things and rushing for the door after briefly stopping to return his tray. In his rush, he completely missed one of his drawings falling out of his sketchpad and fluttering to the floor.

"Hey, wait a second!" Naka called after him, but to no avail. Sighing, the light cruiser went over and picked up the drawing. When she saw it, her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle an excited squeal.

"What is it, onee-sama?" Jintsu asked, whereupon Naka grinned widely and handed her the drawing.

"Someone's got a crush…" she teased.

"Oh, my…" Jintsu took one look at the drawing and blushed deeply.

"What?" Sendai glanced up and noticed her sister ships staring at her, Jintsu blushing and Naka grinning like an idiot.

"I-I think you'd better have a look at this, onee-sama," Jintsu murmured, handing Sendai the drawing.

Sendai glanced at the paper and her jaw nearly hit the floor. The guy certainly had talent, she'd give him that. She looked pretty good in that outfit. Wait…scratch that, she looked freakin' HOT. Those blades looked wicked, too! Not to mention that sword would give Tenryu and Kiso fits if they ever saw it…

Then she noticed the title of the drawing.

"' _Isumi Sendai: Yasen Akuma Senshi Yuwaku_ '…" she trailed off, touched that the character so obviously based off her had been given the family name of her first Captain. Then she realized what the rest of the title meant.

' _Night Battle Demon Warrior Temptress', eh?_ She mused, before grinning to herself. _We'll see about that!_

* * *

* - LtCdr Maeda Minoru was a graduate of Eta Jima's 67th Class in July 1939, and was posted to Jintsu as her Communications Officer on 1 June 1943. Jintsu was sunk on 13 July 1943, and he was among the 482 officers and men KIA.

The 'DesRon 23 Most Epically-Awesome Party House' (delete the dashes): h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-h-y-A-8-d-K-u-.-p-n-g

For those wondering what Aulick's and Charles Ausburne's potential girlfriends look like, here are their inspirations (delete the dashes):  
 **Jenni:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-k-j-l-E-I-B-3-.-j-p-g  
 **Hayden:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-T-J-g-Q-n-O-D-.-j-p-g

The sword that would give Tenryu and Kiso fits (again, delete the dashes): h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-5-6-x-a-y-6-Y-.-p-n-g

 **UP NEXT:** The Russians arrive in America! Tashkent's reunion with DesRon 23! A new foe from Headquarters! Stanly gets to meet his online friend! DesRon 23 gets a new minder!

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	6. Resumptions, Reunions, and Relationships

**DISCLAIMER:** See Chapter One. **  
**

Sorry it's getting to be so long between updates. Some of the things promised last chapter didn't make it into this update, but they're coming soon.

Thanks to **Gnaoh El Nart** , **Danny79** , **Corporal Tommy** , **KINGTIGERACE** , **Tekketsu1220** , **ThatDrocker59** , **A.D. Fields** , **AyameKitsune** , and **Shade1332** for reviewing or commenting on Chapter Five!

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Resumptions, Reunions, and Relationships**

The alarm went off, jarring Jake McCrea from slumber. He groaned sleepily, cursing the fact that it was time to get up and face the day. But the morning wasn't all bad; the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a mass of blonde hair fanned out across his chest.

He smiled at the sight. "Time to get up, sweetheart," he murmured, planting a kiss on the mass of blonde hair.

Iowa whined cutely in protest and cuddled closer, tangling her legs with McCrea's and effectively trapping him in bed with her. "Don' wanna," she muttered.

"We have to," her boyfriend admonished her. "I have to get to work and you need to get ready to greet that Russian delegation that's arriving today, remember?"

"Hmph," was the response he got. McCrea never thought he'd see a battleship pout, but whenever his girlfriend did it he found it absolutely adorable.

"Fine…" Iowa replied, rising from the bed, the fact that she preferred to sleep _au natural_ giving McCrea a _very_ nice view as she stalked off to the bathroom.

The gorgeous fast battleship stopped in the doorway when she noticed McCrea watching her. "Wash my back, Detective?" she purred, giving him a come-hither glance.

McCrea had to admit, he'd never gotten out of bed quicker in his life.

* * *

Chief Yeoman Christy Doss was on a mission. She'd received orders from the higher-ups to pick one of her subordinates to report to the Kanmusu Fleet base, and she knew just who she wanted for that job. She marched over to the desk of the person in question, thrusting her chest out and giving the person at that desk a glimpse of her considerable…assets.

 _By choosing her for this post we'll finally be in different chains of command, meaning I can finally make a move on her next time I see her. She doesn't seem interested right now, but she probably has no idea I'm even looking at her in that way._ Doss smirked to herself. _Oh well…she'll find out soon enough. It might take a few attempts, sure, but I always get what I want in the end…I am Queen Bitch of my universe and everyone in it knows it._

"Burton!" She stopped by the desk of the person she was looking for.

"Yes, Chief?" Yeoman 1st Class Keely Burton glanced up from the paperwork she was doing.

"Orders just came. I need to assign someone to the Kanmusu Fleet base ASAP…guess who I picked?" she smirked as she handed Burton the orders.

Burton sighed inwardly. Chief Doss had had it out for her ever since Burton had first reported for duty at Norfolk but being given this assignment seemed like a way to get away from her for good.

"Yes, Chief…on my way," she replied, quickly gathering the few personal items she had there and stowing them in her bag.

"See you around, Burton," Doss replied before walking off, glancing back over her shoulder once as she departed. Keely quickly made her way out to her car and drove to her new assignment. Upon arriving at the Kanmusu Fleet base, she presented her orders and was immediately escorted to the Headquarters building. Even more surprising, she was shown straight to the anteroom of Fleet Admiral Robertson's office.

"Go on in…the Fleet Admiral's expecting you." the Yeoman sitting behind the desk informed her.

Keely clamped down on her instinct to freak out; she rarely freaked out but being called into the presence of a five-star admiral was enough to rattle anybody's nerves. Following standard procedure, she knocked briefly and entered when given permission.

"Yeoman 1st Class Burton, reporting for duty, sir!"

"At ease, Yeoman…take a seat," Robertson replied. "You were ordered here because I have need of someone with your particular rating." He glanced over Keely's service record. "The Combat Action Ribbon…not too many Yeomen have one of those."

"I was on the _Stennis_ during Blood Week, sir," Keely stated, referring to the _Nimitz_ -class supercarrier whose remains were still being salvaged from the outer reaches of Norfolk Harbor.

"Ah…no need to elaborate there," Robertson stated, "we all saw the footage from Fox News."

Keely barely suppressed a shudder as she remembered standing in the starboard hangar opening as the carrier departed Norfolk…and then the massive _boom_ as Abyssal weapons tore a hole the size of a football field in the _Stennis_ ' port bow. She'd managed to clamber onto the starboard side as the massive carrier heeled over, coming to rest on her port side with half her hull still sticking out of the water, her giant propellers still slowly turning. Surprisingly, once the carrier had turned over, the Abyssals ignored her, concentrating on the _Stennis_ 's escorts instead. Keely and her fellow crewmembers had gotten a front-row seat as the destroyer _Stethem_ was hit by an Abyssal torpedo and jackknifed violently, sinking with almost her entire crew. She and the other _Stennis_ survivors were taken off the carrier's hulk by helicopter later that night.

All in all, not a good day.

"Well, this assignment won't be anything like that," Robertson assured her. "I need you to be the minder of a group of my personnel. I'll warn you now," he cautioned, "this group is quite…unique."

"Unique, sir?"

Robertson nodded, then sighed. "Have you ever heard of DesRon 23, Yeoman?"

"Wasn't that a destroyer squadron from World War II?"

"Yes, and now all nine of them are back as shipboys in their mid-to-late teens," the Fleet Admiral stated. "They've added two submarines to their group, Trigger and Espada, and they've gotten into many…misadventures since being back."

"The Battle of Norfolk Harbor being the most famous one, sir?" Keely grinned, and Robertson groaned.

"Don't remind me…I still can't believe they didn't get in trouble with the Norfolk Police over that one. I guess the police overlooked their involvement in it because they helped save the life of one of their undercover officers. He was apparently minutes away from sleeping with the fishes and DesRon 23 intervened." Robertson sighed. "I'm also willing to bet those boys found a motherlode of drug money hidden in that Colombian warehouse and decided to appropriate it for their own use." He shook his head. "How else would they have been able to afford that palace they all live in now?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but isn't that illegal? Appropriating evidence or something like that?"

"Perhaps," Robertson nodded, "but the amount of drugs the DEA found in that warehouse was more than enough to put every one of those cartel members away for a very long time. While I imagine the money would've been used as evidence as well, from what I've heard from the District Attorney, it would've been superfluous." He shrugged. "What can I say? The money was definitely put to good use, by that I mean not used for illegal means, and it's not like the Colombians could ever get retribution or get their money back; those are nine World War II destroyers and a World War II submarine…any criminal – no matter how well-connected they were – would have to be a complete idiot to try and take _one_ on, much less _all_ of them."

Keely nodded. "Didn't they also endorse one of the guys running for Mayor recently?"

"Oh, yes," Robertson growled. "Tyrone Shinwell, aka 'Big Daddy Shango'." He shook his head. "My ears are still ringing from the litany of complaints I got from CHINFO after DesRon 23 endorsed him. I told CHINFO point-blank that those boys' opinions are their own and if they wanted to endorse Shinwell, it wasn't any of the Navy's business."

"Shinwell's leading in the polls right now by a considerable margin, isn't he, sir?" Keely asked, grinning.

Robertson nodded. "Last poll I heard was at 72-28 in favor of Shinwell. The guy's got excellent connections and if he does half of what he's promising, I think he'll do fine." He laughed. "If nothing else, he's definitely a snappy dresser."

"So, you basically want me to babysit them?" Keely raised an eyebrow.

"They need a level head amongst them," Robertson stated. "Their squadron flagship, Aulick, is pretty good at keeping the more…exuberant ones under control, but he's been overrun by the craziness several times. Having you there might provide a reinforcement to the sane side of things."

Keely glanced at the service records for the nine destroyers and two submarines in question. "With all due respect, sir, I only outrank two of them…I don't know how much use I'd be in a situation like you're describing."

Robertson smiled. "Yeoman, what's one thing Navy sailors, regardless of rank, naturally listen to?"

"Orders from the higher-ups?" Keely guessed.

"Well, yes, but there's something else," the Fleet Admiral replied. When Keely looked at him blankly, he smiled. "The words of a Chief." He slid a fouled anchor pin across the desk. "You'll need this."

"Sir, I –" Keely didn't know what to say.

"Trust me…you'll definitely earn it while dealing with that bunch," Robertson stated, rising to his feet and walking over to the window. Keely joined him.

"At least I'm here and not back in Japan, dealing with that craziness," Robertson mused. "Fleet Admiral Avers married into it."

"His wife is a shipgirl, sir?"

"Fast battleship Kongo," the Fleet Admiral confirmed. "Since she married Matt, however, she's calmed down considerably."

"Is the Fleet Admiral a firm husband, sir?"

Robertson laughed. "No more so than usual. No, Kongo calmed down after she became the mother of twins."

Keely smirked. "So, you think this group would calm down if they all became fathers themselves?"

Robertson looked at her in horror. "Don't even _joke_ about something like that!" he exclaimed. "That bunch? _Reproducing?!_ " he shuddered at the thought, causing Keely to laugh.

Movement on the ground outside caught their eye. A group of shipboys went past, six of them bouncing on Hoppity-Hops, two others holding a large banner that read 'Base Honor Guard', and two more holding a sign that read 'Welcome Back, Tash!' The eleventh shipboy walked some distance behind them, pretending not to know them.

"Hi, Admiral!" the main group chorused, waving as they bounced past. All that was missing from the scene was the crazy music from the old cartoon _Animaniacs_. Robertson face-palmed.

"Oh, God…I can see the news reports now…" he moaned.

Keely bit her lip to keep from laughing, knowing that if nothing else, life from this point onward certainly wasn't going to be dull.

* * *

With the welcome ceremony for the Russian delegation set for 1400, Keely was rushed off to the uniform outfitters to get fitted for a new dress uniform. Proudly sporting her new Chief Petty Officer's insignia, she arrived at the airfield on base and reported back to Robertson.

"Hang loose until the ceremony's over with, Chief, and I'll introduce you to your new charges afterward."

The first portion of the ceremony was taken up by the arrival of various high-ranking officials from the Pentagon. The various officers arrived in a Sikorsky VH-3D 'Sea King' helicopter, and a Navy band was set up to welcome them. Soon after, a large jetliner landed and taxied to a stop in front of a red carpet. As Keely stood at attention, she noticed DesRon 23 – apparently having abandoned their plan to be the 'Honor Guard' – standing nearby, several of them looking in the band's direction with mischievous gleams in their eyes.

 _Uh-oh_ , she thought.

Sure enough, as the helicopter door opened and the first of the top brass stepped out, the band began playing _Anchors Aweigh_.

…at least, that was what they were _expected_ to play.

The overture of Fucik's _March of the Gladiators_ was a surprise to all. Robertson's horrified gaze whipped to the band leader, who looked like he wanted to shoot himself. To their credit, the helicopter's passengers went through the motions, though they very much looked like they wanted to kill whomever chose the music. Keely glanced over at DesRon 23; while they were rendering proper military courtesy, most of them were biting their lips to keep from laughing hysterically.

The door to the plane opened, and a stream of people dressed in Russian Navy formal dress uniforms began streaming out. As the Russian shipgirls came disembarked, the U.S. Navy band struck up the Russian national anthem, and every one of the Russian shipgirls could be seen mouthing words as they stood at rigid attention; whether it was the words for the Soviet version or the current Russian version, no one knew.

As soon as the ceremony was over, the head of the delegation – the Vice-Chief of Naval Operations – marched over to Robertson and saluted him.

"Sir, with all due respect, I know you swore to get back at me for that shaving cream prank back when were both in ROTC together, but _this_ was your way of doing it? Seriously?" Admiral Mike Atherton was not amused.

"Mike, honestly, I had nothing to do with it…but I think I know who did," Robertson replied, casting a dark look in DesRon 23's direction. "I'll handle it. Come with me," he addressed Keely before heading in the group's direction.

DesRon 23 noticed Robertson's approach and came to attention, saluting smartly.

"Gentlemen," Robertson returned their salutes, "care to tell me if you were responsible for the change in music just now?"

"A little shake-up is good every now and then, sir, you know?" Spence grinned.

Robertson resisted the urge to tear his hair out. "Trigger," he addressed the submarine, "what's this I hear about you moving back into the submarine pens on base?"

"Well, since there's no more space at the house, I figured Espada here would like a roomie! I figured on movin' back in an' keepin' him company!" The submarine grinned at Roberson goofily, and his voice reminded Keely of a certain bouncy stuffed animal from Disney's _Winnie the Pooh_.

Robertson smiled, privately wondering how the other occupants of the submarine pens – Argonaut, Nautilus, Wahoo, Imuya, and Goya – would handle it. "Well, I'm sure Espada appreciates the thought."

The submarine in question grinned and nodded. " _Sí_ , Admiral…the more the merrier." He noticed Keely for the first time and his grin turned decidedly flirtatious. " _Hola, chica_ …how you doin'?"

"Fine," Keely gave him a fake smile and subtly tilted her left arm towards him, showing off her Chief Petty Officer insignia. Judging from Espada's grin, the submarine either didn't notice or didn't care. Keely was willing to bet good money it was the latter.

"Excellent," Robertson stated. "Then you'll have a spare room. I'm sure you won't mind your new handler moving in with you."

"'Handler'? Are we in the CIA now?" Charles Ausburne joked.

"Is that true?" Claxton asked.

"Yeah, come on, Admiral…why you gotta insult us like that?" Dyson put in.

"On the other hand, this could be interesting," Spence mused. When his brothers looked askance at him, he grinned. "Think of it, bros…the Agents Fletcher…when shit goes down that nobody else wants to handle, who do they call?"

"The A Team?" Converse quipped, causing everyone save for Robertson and Keely to crack up laughing.

"No…well, yeah, maybe, but that's not who I was thinking of," Spence replied. "They call in…the Ships in Black." He struck a secret agent-like pose, even going so far as to manifest a single 5-inch gun to hold up like a secret agent would.

Judging by the exclamations of "Dude!" and a Cartman-esque, "Oh, awesomeh!", his brothers seemed quite taken by the idea of being a black-ops group.

"You're not in the CIA!" Robertson yelled over the group's shenanigans. He sighed, gathering his wits, and indicated Keely. "This is Chief Burton, who will be your handler, meaning she'll –"

"Be our secretary?" Claxton interrupted.

"Sweet!" Spence put in. He turned to Keely and pulled out his wallet, extending a black debit card to her. "The new _God of War_ game and _Star Wars: Battlefront II_ are coming out tomorrow. Be outside GameStop by 0500 so you can be one of the people to get the exclusive GameStop release packs, 'kay? Thanks much."

"Yeah, not happening," Keely snapped. "If you want those games, go stand in line yourself."

"She's not your secretary, either!" Robertson admonished the group. "She's going to be your official liaison with the U.S. Navy…she'll get you to any appearances they want you to do and make sure you stay in line while interacting with the public."

"And run interference with potential baby-mamas until we get confirmation of paternity, right?" Converse asked. "Not that we're gonna need it, just wanna make sure!" he added hastily, when it looked like Robertson was about to have a stroke from the implications of that statement.

"Not like you're gonna need it, dude," Stanly joked, causing several of the brothers to snicker.

"Pot meet kettle, bitch!" Converse shot back. "This from the guy who spends most of his free time in front of his computer talking to a girl he'll never have the balls to meet face-to-face!"

"Joke's on you, punk!" Stanly replied. "Just so happens, she's coming to Norfolk next week and we're meeting up!"

The conversation was derailed by shouts of "Dude!" and "Seriously?!" and the argument was apparently forgotten in favor of plans to help Stanly meet his online girlfriend.

"Gentlemen!" Robertson shouted over their conversations. "Let's backtrack a moment. With Trigger here moving out, this means one apartment will be available, correct?"

"Huh?" Aulick glanced over at Robertson. "Oh yeah, sure…she can have it, right guys?" he asked his brothers, and got nods of approval all around.

"Sure," Spence confirmed before turning to Keely. "Just follow the house rules and everything'll be cool. Oh, and tomorrow's Naked Thursday, so yeah…" He trailed off, desperately trying to keep a straight face, but his brothers cracked up laughing and Aulick and Robertson face-palmed.

"Also, not happening," Keely replied. "Though you do get points for just slipping it into the conversation like that. Nicely done."

"Meh, can't blame a guy for trying," Spence shrugged.

"Anyway," Robertson got the conversation back on track, "I'd like to know if you gentlemen had anything to do with that little incident with the music just now."

"Espada defense," the group chorused, causing Keely to look at Robertson in confusion, but the Fleet Admiral was looking just as lost.

"What does that mean?" Robertson asked, turning to the submarine in question.

Espada grinned. " _No comprendo,_ _ese_ ," he stated. _Bullshit_ , Keely thought, but privately thought it was funny.

Robertson exhaled deeply, trying to find strength to continue the conversation. "Fine," he growled. "But please, try and keep stunts like this to a minimum, will you?"

"Don't worry, sir," Charles Ausburne assured him, "we already did the Sit-N-Spin Challenge."

"The _what_ challenge?" Robertson had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to like the clarification he was about to get.

"The Sit-N-Spin Challenge," Claxton replied, pulling a Sit-N-Spin out of his uniform. "See, we challenge someone to bet how many times they can be spun and still walk a straight line, then we sit down, spin 'em that number of times, and if they can do it, they win the money pot. If not, we keep the money for ourselves."

"My number's eight," Converse put in.

"Six here," Stanly put in.

"The all-time record's twenty-five, though…nobody's been able to beat it," Aulick stated.

"Which of you did that?" Keely asked.

"None of us…that was Sergeant Major Green," Spence replied. "He went twenty-five turns on this thing, took a few deep breaths, and then marched off like he was on the drill field…never seen anything like it."

"Guy kicks ass in the truest sense of the word," Claxton nodded.

"Who's –" Robertson trailed off, then paled. "When you say, 'Sergeant Major Green', please don't tell me you're talking about the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps!"

"Of course," Aulick replied. "Who else would we be talking about?"

"And don't worry…he wasn't pissed at all," Spence replied.

"Course not," Thatcher shot back. "The guy made two grand off us for doing what he did!"

"Care to try and beat his record, Admiral?" Converse invited. "We'll bet good money you can."

Robertson smiled thinly and then turned to Keely. "They're all yours, Chief…good luck."

As he walked off, Keely turned to her new charges. "I'll follow you guys home, if that's all right…thanks for –"

"There she is, boys!" Spence yelled, motioning to one of the Russian shipgirls, who'd separated herself from the others and appeared to be trying to sneak off before being noticed. "DesRon 23, head out!"

"– letting me stay with you! Wait a minute!" Keely yelled as everyone but Aulick took off, shouts of "Tash!" accompanying them. The Russian shipgirl had heard their shouts and was looking in their direction with the same expression as Wile E. Coyote when he was standing on a railroad track facing down an oncoming locomotive. Aulick sighed heavily and started to walk slowly in the direction his brothers had gone, Keely following.

"You guys know her?" Keely asked as they walked.

Aulick nodded. "Tashkent roomed in the same dorm as us when we were still in Japan after being summoned. She was sort of like our first minder in a way, seeing as how she was originally a destroyer leader during the war, but since she wasn't _officially_ assigned to keep us in line she really didn't exert the effort. Long as we left her alone, she left us alone." He grinned, remembering something. "Of course, we didn't really leave her alone…we always tried to include her in whatever insanity we got into, whether she wanted to be included or not." He laughed. "I remember when it was announced the European shipgirls were being permitted to return to their countries of origin…Tash was all but dancing in the streets. She was the first one on the plane that day…bet she never thought she'd see us again!"

 _Judging by her reaction to you guys_ , Keely thought, _I'm going to bet she was_ praying _it would never happen._ Sighing, she headed over to break up the reunion-slash-dogpile that was currently in progress.

* * *

A week later, Keely felt as though she was ready to tear her hair out. DesRon 23 certainly lived up to their slogan of 'Live Fast, Die Hard, and Take Many with You'. While nobody had died – yet – the group definitely lived life to the fullest. She still couldn't believe the home she now lived in; the place was straight out of _Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous_. She still half-expected Robin Leach to pop up out of nowhere and offer to give her a tour.

The destroyer boys annoyed her constantly, but it was clear to her that they'd accepted her. The only thing they ragged on her about was her car: a 1998 Ford Escort. Keely had bought the car used several years ago and was holding it together month-to-month. Despite the increase in pay that the much-coveted fouled anchor had brought her, she was still by no means in a position financially to even think about replacing her car.

She was putting the finishing touches on her khaki duty uniform one morning when a car honking its horn drew her attention. Glancing out the window, she groaned loudly when she saw a royal blue Corvette being delivered.

"Great…another expensive toy for someone to play with," she grumbled. The group's penchant for expensive cars was well-known to her; while she'd never been an authority on cars herself, she had to admit going for a ride in Converse's 2005 Shelby Series One was an experience she'd never forget. She finished her uniform and headed downstairs after locking her suite.

"Yo, Chief!" Converse greeted her as she walked outside. "Whatcha think of the new ride?"

"Very nice," Keely nodded in approval. "Which one of you ordered this?"

"We all did," Spence put in, "along with Trigger and Espada. Everybody pitched in to get it."

"So, this is going to be a group vehicle, then?" Keely found it somewhat hard to believe that the shipboys would pull their money together to buy a single vehicle for all of them.

"Nah, see, if you're living in the DesRon 23 Most-Epically Awesome Party House, then you have to drive a most-epically awesome vehicle," Thatcher grinned. "And no offense or anything, but you've been in violation of that rule since you moved in."

"That being said, we know Chiefs don't make all that much money," Charles Ausburne stated.

"So, we all decided to pitch in and help you correct your rule violation," Aulick finished.

"Think fast, Chief!" Converse hollered, tossing something in her direction. Keely caught it and her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was a set of keys.

She glanced up to see her charges grinning at her.

"No way…" she trailed off, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"Yes, way!" Stanly shot back. "We know you like your car, but let's face it, the thing's about to fall apart on ya."

"We figured this puppy would help you fit in right nice," Claxton grinned.

"Yep…a 2019 Chevy Corvette ZR1," Dyson informed her, "and if you don't know how to drive a standard, we'll teach ya."

Keely could only gape in awe at her new vehicle. The shipboys had even had the car customized – as evidenced by the gold Chief Petty Officer's anchor attached to the center front grille – but when she went around the back of the car and saw the 'United We Stand' license plate that proudly proclaimed the car to be KEELYS it truly sank in that this very nice vehicle was truly _hers_.

"This thing had to have cost at _least_ fifty thousand dollars…" she trailed off.

"Close to 135, if you really wanna know, but who cares? It's just money," Converse informed her.

Keely's brain tried to form words but failed miserably. The car sitting in front of her represented just under four years' salary.

"I dunno what to say…" she murmured. "I know 'Thank You' doesn't seem to be _nearly_ enough."

"You could flash us your boobs…that'd work," Spence remarked, causing several of his brothers to crack up. Keely suppressed a laugh; trust Spence to say something like that to ease the situation.

"Sorry, not happening," she replied. "But I will give every one of you a hug."

"Hugs are good, too," Spence replied, opening his arms.

"And no trying to grab my ass, either!" Keely warned, knowing Spence all too well.

"Fine…" the Fletcher-class destroyer pouted while his brothers snickered.

Hugs accomplished, Keely set about exploring her new car…that is, until Spence made an announcement.

"I'm hungry!" the destroyer stated. "Let's go grab some grub!"

"I'll pass on the chow," Stanly informed the group. "I'm meeting my online friend at the mall today."

"You can bring her along, you know," Claxton stated.

Stanly nodded. "If our meeting goes well, I'll see about it." He walked over to 2013 SRT Viper. "Wish me luck, bros…laterz!"

"Well, that leaves one of us out," Spence stated. "Everybody else in?"

"I'll pass," Aulick replied. "I'm meeting Jenni for lunch in half an hour or so."

"Count me out, too," Charles Ausburne stated. "I'm surprising Hayden with lunch at school."

Everyone else gave murmurs of assent. Keely nodded as well, wanting to test out her new car.

"How about Mickey D's?" Foote put forth.

"Nah…too generic," Claxton replied. "Let's go someplace interesting."

Spence's phone chimed, and the destroyer pulled it out. Seconds later he was grinning. "DUDES! Trigger just texted me…he says he's got a hankering for pizza and wants to know if we wanted in!"

"Pizza sounds good to me," Dyson replied. "Just not Cici's Pizza…that place sucks." Several of his brothers nodded in agreement.

"Pizza Hut's buffet doesn't start until noon, and Domino's doesn't do a buffet," Converse mused. "Papa John's isn't even worth mentioning…"

"Papa John's? Blecch!" Thatcher muttered, causing several of his brothers to agree with his sentiments.

A grin formed on Spence's face. "How's about Chuck E. Cheese?"

A chill shot up Keely's spine at Spence's suggestion, only to worsen when everyone else immediately agreed with him. But she forced herself to optimistic…after all, how bad could it get?

* * *

Stanly sat in the manga/anime section of Barnes & Noble. He'd been trying to read the latest volume of _Bleach_ for the past ten minutes, but if he was honest with himself he was nervous as hell. He'd been talking to Maya – alias HogFarmer95 – for the past three months via text message or phone calls, but today was the day they would finally meet face-to-face. They'd met on an anime message board almost a year ago and had clicked almost instantly. Once the phone calls had begun the conversations had started to turn flirtatious – the fact that Maya had an incredibly sexy voice was simply a bonus – almost immediately. They had an agreement to not send pictures to each other; rather, they wanted to build something that wasn't based on looks at all, more on who they were on the inside.

"Stanly?" Maya's voice behind him drew the destroyer out of his thoughts. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before standing up and turning around, silently praying she looked as good as she sounded, and then opened his eyes.

Maya wasn't good-looking…she was drop-dead _gorgeous_ …long platinum-blonde hair with dark brown streaks running through it, several tattoos, captivating dark eyes, and a body that would tempt the Pope.

"Maya?" he asked, and the young woman nodded, although he could see she was uncomfortable.

"It's…nice to finally meet you," she replied, extending her hand.

"Yeah, same here," Stanly replied, shaking it. Given how strained her greeting seemed to be, he forced himself to ignore the spark that shot up his arm as he touched her hand.

Maya quirked an eyebrow at him. "I have to know something: am I gonna get in trouble for meeting you here? You didn't, like, cut school or anything?"

"Huh?" Stanly looked confused, then inwardly swore when he finally caught on. "Oh, no…I'm not in school or anything," he assured her, cursing the fact he looked like he was a sophomore in high school. "I mean, I go to classes and all, but they're more training than actual school." He pulled out his USS Stanly baseball cap and placed it on his head.

Maya immediately realized what it meant and sank down into the armchair next to her. "All this time I've been debating anime with a Fletcher-class destroyer…" she trailed off in amazement.

"Not to make you embarrassed or anything, but we've done more over the phone than just debate anime," Stanly joked. He was relieved when Maya laughed.

"True," she grinned. "And now I get why you were so understanding about my odd hours."

"Hey, I know people in your line of work are usually early to bed and up with the sun," Stanly assured her. "I mean, the animals need to be fed and all, right?"

"Animals?" Maya looked confused.

"Your screenname," Stanly replied. "'HogFarmer95'? I know the pigs have to be fed early in the morning –" he broke off when Maya burst out laughing so hard she nearly toppled over onto the floor. "Am I missing something here?" he asked, forcing himself to ignore how sexy Maya looked when she placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles.

"No, no…" she gasped. "Oh, my God…I never in a million years thought you would think I was a pig farmer from my screenname! Although, now that I look at it from your perspective, I can see where you would think that," she amended before shaking her head. "No, seriously, though…I'm the furthest thing from a pig farmer." When Stanly looked confused she grinned. "Allow me to introduce myself…I'm Captain Maya Kretzin, U.S. Air Force. I fly A-10s."

Stanly's brain rebooted after picturing Maya in a flight suit a couple sizes too small. _Yeowza_.

"I'm Navy, so I'm not really up on the Air Force's current arsenal," he stated. "Just to clarify, A-10s are those big planes with the Gatling gun mounted in the nose and enough missiles and bullets aboard that a single plane could probably level downtown Detroit in the morning and still make it home in time for lunch?"

"Yeah, those are the ones," Maya grinned.

Stanly grinned back. _My day just got a helluva lot more interesting_. "Kewl."

* * *

Keely sat at the table in Chuck E. Cheese and gazed vacantly at nothing. In retrospect, she should've known better than to allow DesRon 23 to even set foot in the restaurant, but hindsight, as they say, was 20/20. It didn't help that the three most-level-headed of the Fletchers were not present for this little outing, a fact that seemed to tell the other six destroyers – plus the two submarines – that it was perfectly fine to act crazy.

It all started when Foote and Spence got into a water fight in the men's room. Then Keely was forced to lecture Trigger and Espada when they got the bright idea to practice their attack approaches by submerging themselves in the ball pit and sneaking up on other customers using the ball pit and suddenly pull them under.

Keely was jarred from her thoughts by Thatcher's voice. She turned and looked on in horror as the destroyer loudly proclaimed himself to be 'Cop Cat' and informed Chuck E. Cheese he was under arrest for running his restaurant franchise as a cover for secret distribution of a new drug called 'Cheddar Wild'. Converse stood next to Thatcher, his arms crossed and a faux-stony expression on his face, portraying the tough, grizzled cop. The other four destroyers were sitting at a nearby table, grinning like idiots and filming the whole thing on their cell phones.

Chuck E., for his part, played along at first, placing his hands up and miming like he was shaking in fear, before motioning with his hands in an 'aw, you're just kidding' manner and starting to walk off.

"Oh, no, you don't, Mousie!" Converse stated, grabbing onto Chuck E.'s tail and putting all his ship weight into holding Chuck E. in place. The mouse resisted and freed himself with a loud tearing noise. The costume's tailpiece tore off, taking a good chunk of the seat of the pants with it…and letting everyone know whoever was playing Chuck E. had chosen to go commando.

"Whoa! Full moon in the mouse house!" Converse loudly announced, causing Keely to face-palm hard. The poor employee clapped his hands over his now-bare bottom and ran for the restroom, muttering several words that Keely was pretty sure Chuck E. Cheese wouldn't say in front of kids.

"Wait, sir…you forgot your modesty!" Converse and Thatcher ran after him, the former holding the torn piece of costume aloft like some perverted trophy. Keely could only watch the scene like one would observe a car accident…you couldn't do anything about it, but at the same time you couldn't look away, either. Foote, Spence, Claxton, and Dyson had stopped filming by now; all but Claxton were lying on the floor laughing like loons.

Keely gazed on the scene with a slight feeling of helplessness. _And we haven't even eaten yet_ , she thought. _It's gonna be a_ long _day_.

* * *

Meanwhile, Aulick puttered around the currently-chaos-free house, biding time until he headed out to meet Jenni for lunch. As he flipped through channels on the Samsung 110-inch Ultra HDTV mounted in the communal living room, he remembered that it was Friday and brightened considerably.

 _Maybe Jenni and I can do something together this weekend_ , he thought.

The doorbell interrupted his positive thinking. Heaving a great sigh at having to move from his comfy spot, the destroyer dragged himself to his feet and ambled to the door, not bothering to check the peephole before opening it.

The sight that greeted him caused his brain to short-circuit. His girlfriend stood there wearing a shiny black panty-length leather dress that laced up the front, with high heels that made her legs seem miles long. She looked scorching hot, and Aulick mentally cursed the fact that he couldn't seem to find words to impart that information to her.

"Oofa…" he uttered, and Jenni smirked as she brushed past him and walked inside. Aulick groaned softly as he discovered the view from behind was almost as good as it was from the front, and he swore he'd never in his life been so glad to have skipped an outing with his brothers.

"This was supposed to have been a surprise for you," Jenni remarked as she walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs, "but you ended up surprising me instead."

"Huh?" Aulick's brain was still attempting to process the fantastic view of his girlfriend's 'stern section'.

"You neglected to tell me you lived here," Jenni remarked. "I mean, when I saw the black AMEX card I knew you were well-off, but _this_ …"

"My brothers and I all live here," Aulick replied. "We pooled our resources and bought the place. I don't live here alone."

"Oh, so fulfilling a dirty fantasy of yours on this couch wouldn't be the best idea, then?" Jenni flashed Aulick a mischievous grin. For his part, the destroyer merely nodded, forgoing the instinct to tell her that upon seeing her in that dress, his fantasies had blown right past Dirty Street and were now firmly ensconced at the intersection of Downright Filthy Boulevard and Is That Even Legal? Avenue.

"Probably wouldn't be the best idea," Aulick confirmed. "But we've each got our own private apartment…" he trailed off, holding on to his will to be an officer and a gentleman by a rapidly-fraying thread.

Jenni rose to her feet and walked past him, grabbing his hand and pulling him along as she headed for the stairs. "Show me," she instructed.

"Really?" Aulick inwardly cursed at how he sounded like a junior-high student about to see his first set of boobs.

Jenni giggled. "Babe, we've been on more than three dates, and you've been nothing but a gentleman each time." She pulled Aulick close and kissed him deeply. "And while I really like how well you treat me, sometimes I like other stuff, too." She smirked. "This is one of those times."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that," Aulick muttered, his eyes firmly fixated downwards, causing Jenni to laugh.

"Now let's go upstairs so you can unlace this dress with your teeth," she grinned.

Aulick had no problem with that whatsoever.

* * *

Keely collapsed at DesRon 23's designated table with a huff of frustration. The incident with Chuck E. had not improved their standing at all, and Spence proudly telling her the video he'd taken of the incident was now the most-watched one on the group's YouTube channel by no means lessened her stress level.

A loud dinging noise brought her out of her thoughts. She glanced over to see Trigger and Espada doing a victory dance as the Whack-A-Mole game spat out tickets like it was raining paper. She sighed; Lord only knew what the two submarines would buy with all those tickets. She was just about to get up and go congratulate the pair when a commotion in another part of the game room distracted her.

* * *

Claxton and Dyson strolled through the game area, content to merely walk around and people-watch. It was fun just being civilians for once, not worrying about military protocol or regulations…not that DesRon 23 paid much attention to that anyway. They were heading past the skee-ball section when they noticed a little boy attempting to play the game. The kid couldn't have been more than seven years old, and kept trying to hit the jackpot, but hadn't had any luck thus far.

"Poor kid," Claxton mused. "What do you say we help him out a little?"

"Read my mind, bro!" Dyson grinned. He walked over to the token machine and put in fifty dollars, which caused the machine to spew out numerous tokens. That done, the pair headed over to the kid, who looked up nervously at their arrival.

"Want some help there?" Claxton grinned. The kid nodded. "All right, stand back and watch radar-controlled aiming at work!"

Dyson grinned and got on the game next to his brother. "Double team action is about to commence!"

With the destroyers using their radar-controlled aiming, they hit the 100,000-point slots in the upper left or right corners every time. The two machines were going crazy, spitting out reams of tickets as the two destroyers continued to feed tokens in and continue hitting the jackpot each time, and the boy looked like Christmas had come early.

"Whatcha doin', bros?" Spence ambled over to see Claxton, Dyson, and their new friend standing nearly ankle-deep in tickets. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed. "That's awesome! Lemme get some tokens and I'll contribute!" Five minutes later, he returned with Converse, Foote, Thatcher, and a large drink cup full of tokens. "What's the trick, dudes?"

"Use your radar directors…jackpot every time," Claxton stated as he lobbed yet another ball into the 100,000-point slot.

"Gotcha!" Spence replied. "Let's win this kid some tickets, bros!"

With six people taking up the skee-ball area and each one hitting the jackpot with each throw and each person continually feeding tokens into their respective machines, it was inevitable that something would happen. Thatcher had just thrown the last ball of his latest set, when the whole skee-ball area lit up, sirens went off, and the Champion Ticket Counter on the wall started flashing 'TILT'. Tickets also began spewing out of all six destroyers' machines at an alarming rate before suddenly shutting off completely.

"Huh?" Spence looked confused when he inserted another token and his machine didn't automatically give him a new set of skee-balls to throw. "What happened?"

"You overloaded the whole set-up, that's what happened!" A short, acne-covered college-aged man wearing a manager's uniform stormed over to the group.

"We beat the skee-ball game?" Claxton asked. When the manager glowered at him, he turned to the others and grinned. "Dudes, we beat the game!"

This revelation produced shouts of "Sweet!", "Awesome!", and "Righteous!" before Spence addressed the manager.

"Um, not to quibble or anything, but I'm pretty sure we're owed more tickets than the machine spit out before it quit."

"You aren't going to get any more tickets out of these machines!" the young man snapped, "Mainly because they spat out every ticket they were loaded with! They have no more tickets to give you!"

"We drained it dry," Dyson joked, causing Spence and Claxton to snort back laughter.

"These machines will have to be reloaded with tickets and reset before they can be used again!" the manager stated. "Just take what tickets you have and move on!"

"To the ticket counting machines!" Spence announced.

"What are you guys _doing_?!" Keely stormed over to the group. "Did you break those machines?!"

"Nah, just emptied 'em of tickets," Converse replied. "We're gonna go count our tickets and see what our new friend here," he indicated the young boy standing next to them looking at DesRon 23 in awe, "can get with what we earned."

"What's going on – Daniel!" A woman hurried over to them. "What happened?"

"Mommy! Look at all these tickets these boys won for me!" Daniel ran over to the woman and hugged her waist. The woman looked at DesRon 23 in surprise.

Thatcher shrugged. "We saw him having trouble at the skee-ball game, so we each bought a crapload of tokens and each grabbed a machine. We hit the jackpot so much we got every ticket out of 'em and shorted 'em out. Every ticket here is his."

Keely was the person delegated to explain who they all were and listen to Daniel's mother thank the group while Daniel went with DesRon 23 to count tickets, after the six destroyers posed with Daniel and the now-approaching-chest-height mountain of tickets. Fifteen minutes later, the group was back, with Daniel sporting a mile-wide grin on his face and carrying a WWE John Cena doll that was nearly as big as he was.

"Look what all those tickets got me, Mommy!" The boy was almost too excited to speak.

Daniel's mother was stunned. "How many tickets did you win?"

Spence grinned. "Our final count was 17,250. His prize was only 7,500 tickets, so we've got a lot of tickets left over."

Daniel made sure to hug each one of the destroyers as a thank-you before he and his mother left.

"That was very sweet of you guys to do what you did," Keely stated before amending her statement. "It could've been done without causing that poor assistant manager to have a meltdown, but it was a very sweet gesture nonetheless."

"Yeah, well…" Converse muttered, obviously uncomfortable with the praise.

"Meh, what else can I say except, we're just awesome like that?" Thatcher shrugged.

"That's DesRon 23 for ya, Chief…we're awesome twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week, 366 days a year. 367 days in Leap Years," Spence stated, causing his brothers to nod and Trigger and Espada to laugh.

"Not to break up the awesomeness fest, but I think I see a basketball game with my name on it," Dyson stated.

"Bro, we're there!" Foote exclaimed, the rest of the group getting up from the table and following them. Keely groaned inwardly but decided to stay at the table and play a game on her phone. After all, how much trouble could the group get into playing one of those scaled-down basketball games?

It started out innocent enough; each member taking turns at shooting baskets – once again using their radar directors to ensure the winning shots each time – but as time wore on, the urge to one-up the last guy won out, and loud shouts of "OHHHH!" started to be heard after each turn. Keely sighed in resignation and got up to corral her charges back to the table.

She was just in time to see Dyson lining up a shot from across the room.

"Watch this, bros! Scottie Pippen…for three!" He launched the ball, and Keely's jaw nearly hit the floor as it sailed across the room to go in…nothing but net. "HE'S ON FIRE!" Dyson yelled, mimicking the catchphrase from the old SNES game _NBA Jam_ , causing the other destroyers to roar with laughter.

"Got you beat, bro!" Converse smirked, running back to where Dyson had been standing a moment ago. "Number 23 of the Chicago Bulls, from North Carolina…AIR JORDAN!" He ran full-speed at the basketball game, actually leaping into the air halfway to the goal. "I believe I can flyyyyy!~" he sang horribly off-key - causing his brothers to fall down laughing – before slamming the ball one-handed directly into the basket, causing the game to shake ominously.

"Check this!" Spence shot back, lining himself up on the game before running at it full-speed and then actually leaping onto it – causing Keely to shriek in surprise – and slam-dunking the ball into the net. "Chicago Bulls, number 91, Dennis Rodman…bad as I wanna be! What then?!" He made a fake tough-guy hand symbol before jumping down as his brothers, gasping for air from laughing so hard, slapped him on the back in encouragement.

Keely glanced over at the prize counter and saw the same manager from earlier looking like another meltdown was imminent. She smiled weakly in apology and turned back to her charges. "Let's go back to the table…they've probably got our pizza order ready by now."

Thankfully, Keely was right; the group got to their seats as employees started carting out the substantial order of pizza. Most of the group dug in immediately, though Keely noticed both Claxton and Dyson – the latter having collected a further 200 tickets from the basketball machine – checking out the two waitresses who helped bring out the food. And the girls had apparently noticed the attention as well, judging by the extra swing in their hips as they walked back to the kitchens for another tray of food. Claxton motioned to Dyson, and the pair snuck off to the prize counter; Keely decided to concentrate on the group still at the table and temporarily leave that pair to their own devices.

The first couple pizzas disappeared within seconds, leaving their large circular pans behind…which of course led to more shenanigans.

"Hmm…" Spence gazed thoughtfully at one of the pans.

"Getting an idea, dude?" Thatcher asked, finishing his fifth slice of pepperoni.

"Two words: Extreme Frisbee," Spence grinned.

Keely's head snapped up as shouts of approval were immediately uttered.

"I'm game!" Trigger bounced to his feet and moved away from the table.

"Same here, ese!" Espada grinned. "Throw it long!"

"Dude! Statue of Liberty pass!" Converse yelled.

"No! Guys, no!" Keely leapt to her feet and got between Spence, the two submarines, and Converse.

"Yo, Spence! Toss it here!" Trigger yelled.

"No, no…send it my way, homes!" Espada hollered.

"Dude! Fletcher in the open!" Converse waved to get his brother's attention.

Spence looked left and right. "He looks…it's now or never…" In the blink of an eye, the destroyer leapt onto a chair and fired the metal pizza pan in Converse's direction, right over Keely's head. "He throws! Right over the head of the defense!"

"SPENCE!" Keely yelled, turning to watch in mute horror as Converse tackled the pan in mid-air and went spinning over a nearby table to land with a loud crash on the other side. Seconds later, he popped his head up with a goofy grin.

"Ha-ha! Touchdown…yeah!" He fist-pumped the air for emphasis.

"YEAH!" His squadron mates responded with extremely loud victory yells and fist-pumps of their own as the few other families in the area applauded the lively bonus floor show. Keely wanted to vanish she was so embarrassed.

"THAT'S _IT_!" the same manager from earlier shrieked, storming over to their table. "Get out of this restaurant…you're all banned for LIFE! OUT!"

"Well, that sucks," Claxton muttered, as he and Dyson returned from cashing in the groups' remaining tickets. For the life of her, Keely couldn't see why the two destroyers had traded their massive amount of tickets in for the pair of very soft-looking teddy bears that had been behind the prize counter. She'd been about to ask why they'd chosen those exact prizes when her answer emerged from the kitchen area.

* * *

Chelsea Amos sighed as she lugged yet another tray of pizza out of the kitchen. The boisterous group of teenage boys that had seemingly caused chaos from one end of the building to the other also ate like horses…she'd never seen guys put away that much food, and she had three brothers who were football players and wrestlers.

She had to admit, though, they seemed like a lot of fun. The other customers didn't seem to mind their craziness, either; several of them seemed to think they were part of the daily show that simply integrated into the audience. Her coworker and best friend Ashlie Franklin agreed that the group had won major brownie points when they shorted out the skee-ball machines winning all those tickets for that little boy.

One person who _didn't_ appreciate their presence was the manager on schedule for that day. Justin Delton was one of those people who let what little power he had go completely to his head and let everyone around there know it. He'd also asked both her and Ashlie out, but they'd each turned him down flat. He'd seemed to have it out for the both of them ever since, but as both she and Ashlie were model employees, he'd never been able to exact his revenge. Thankfully, he wasn't the manager who made up the schedules, or they'd have been royally screwed.

She went through the set of swinging doors that led into the dining area and stopped short, letting out a brief shriek of surprise as one of the guys dove over a table while clutching one of the empty pizza pans. He popped up and announced a touchdown to the others seconds later, causing a loud cheer from the others and for Justin to march up and scream that they were all banned for life.

 _What a prick_ , she thought, setting the pizza she was carrying down on the group's table. Ashlie – who'd carried another pizza out seconds before her – had been on her way back to the kitchen but had stopped to watch what was going on.

"Justin's lost it," she whispered to Chelsea. Chelsea nodded in agreement.

"He can't ban anybody from here…only the head manager can suggest it, and then the ban's got to be approved by Corporate."

"Good to know," a voice responded, and the girls turned to see two of the guys from the group in question standing in front of them, grinning.

"Ladies, I'm Claxton Fletcher, and this my brother Dyson," one of them stated. "As I'm sure you saw earlier, we won a lot of tickets and we had some extras, so when we saw these up at the prize counter, we thought you and your friend here might like them."

The pair produced the two absolutely adorable teddy bears that Ashlie and Chelsea had seen up at the prize counter, but knew they probably had no hope of ever getting for themselves.

"For us?" Chelsea smiled happily at Dyson, who nodded and handed her the bear. Chelsea squealed and hugged her new plushie as Ashlie introduced herself and Chelsea.

"Would you two be interested in having dinner with us this evening?" Claxton asked.

"You mean, like a date?" Ashlie asked. When Claxton nodded she smiled regretfully. "Normally, I'd say yes, but no offense, you guys look a little young."

Dyson shrugged. "No offense taken. We look young for a reason." He and Claxton pulled out their military IDs and showed them to the girls.

"You're shipboys?" Ashlie asked, as both she and Chelsea looked at the proffered IDs in surprise.

The pair nodded. "Fletcher-class destroyers," Claxton added. "We served in World War II."

"We're taking a history class right now that's studying World War II," Ashlie replied. "Maybe we could interview you if we have to write a paper on it?"

"Sure," Claxton agreed. "We love talkin' 'bout the good ol' days."

"Dude, this time's much better," Dyson argued. "I mean yeah, kickin' ass and takin' names was fun and all, but we get to do it now, too, only this time we get to drive, play Xbox, all sorts of fun stuff. And then there's the fact that we get to enjoy something we heard about from our crew all the time but never got to experience for ourselves back in the war."

Ashlie rolled her eyes and grinned. "Typical guys' way of thinking," she informed Chelsea, who smirked and nodded.

The two destroyers looked at them in confusion, and then it clicked, causing both shipboys to crack up.

"No, we weren't talking about _that_!" Claxton laughed. "He was talking about the wonder that is bacon."

Chelsea burst out laughing and Ashlie blushed fire-engine red.

"No need to be embarrassed," Claxton assured her, "but I gotta admit, I like where your train of thought was going." He grinned and leaned over to whisper, "And you look adorable when you blush."

His aside only served to make Ashlie blush even harder, though it was obvious she was quite pleased.

Dyson smirked. "So now that we've cleared up the fact that we're perfectly legal and not just a couple of high-school pervs, how about dinner?"

"Speak for yourself on the 'no-perv' thing, bro!" Spence called over from where Justin was glowering at the rest of the group. His comment caused Foote, Trigger, and Espada to crack up.

"Are you all even listening to me?!" Justin shrieked.

"Tryin' not to," Converse muttered without looking up from where he was scrolling through Facebook on his iPhone X.

Justin looked like he was one step away from an aneurism after overhearing that comment. Keely figured she'd best err on the side of caution and get everyone going.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," she assured Justin.

"Thank you!" the manager snarled. "And you two!" he shouted to Ashlie and Chelsea, "You're not being paid to flirt with customers, so since you seem to want to do that rather than work, you can go ahead and leave with them! You're fired!"

Ashlie shrugged and turned to Chelsea. "C'mon, let's go clock out…let him run the place two people short and see how easy it is."

Ten minutes later, then entire group was standing out in the parking lot.

"I'd like to apologize for this group," Keely stated, introducing herself to Ashlie and Chelsea. "We didn't mean to get you fired."

Ashlie shook her head. "You didn't…the only person who can fire people is the Store Manager, Lawrence, and he's not working today."

"Then your jobs are safe?" Keely looked visibly relieved.

"Oh, yeah… _our_ jobs are," Ashlie nodded. "It's Justin's job that's probably in jeopardy." She grinned. "Having a public meltdown and screaming at both customers and subordinates? Yeah, his ass is grass."

"Especially since we've got proof of the whole thing," Foote grinned, holding up his iPhone. "Like the old commercial says, 'Don't leave home without it'."

"So, since we've been kicked out of the pizza place, anybody got any suggestions what to do next?" Thatcher inquired.

"How about the mall?" Spence suggested. "I'm in the mood to conquer some of the games in the arcade."

"Haven't you guys done enough damage to games today?" Keely asked.

The destroyers looked at each other before turning to her and grinning. "Nah!" They chorused, causing their minder to groan and Ashlie and Chelsea to giggle.

"Wanna come with?" Claxton asked them. "I mean, since you walked out on your jobs for today and all?"

The girls were spared from replying by a car horn honking. The group turned to see Stanly's Viper pulling into the lot, followed closely behind by another vehicle which parked in the space next to his. The destroyer in question got out and leaned against the back of this car, apparently waiting for someone.

"Stanly decided to meet up with us?" Keely asked. "I guess his meeting with his online friend didn't go as well as he'd hoped."

" _Au contraire_ ," Spence replied. "Got a text from him saying it went very well and they wanted to meet up with us so she could meet everyone. I'm guessing the other car's hers."

Wolf-whistles abounded when the shipboys got a look at Maya.

"Dayum…milk's done _that_ body good!" Converse quipped.

The blonde approached Stanly and laced her fingers with his before the pair approached the others.

"Hey, everyone," Stanly grinned. "This is U.S. Air Force Captain Maya Kretzin, aka 'HogFarmer95'. Maya, this these are my brothers Converse, Foote, Spence, Thatcher, Claxton, and Dyson," he pointed to each brother as he said their names, "our honorary brothers Trigger and Espada," he pointed to the two submarines as well, "and our minder, Chief Petty Officer Keely Burton." He indicated Keely, who nodded.

"Ma'am."

Maya smiled and nodded. "Chief."

"And last but not least, we have two random girls," Stanly finished lamely. "Sorry," he addressed Ashlie and Chelsea, "I just got here, so I dunno who you are." He paused, thought for a moment, and then asked uncertainly, "You _are_ with us, right? I mean, I didn't just randomly introduce two passersby to my new girlfriend?"

The two girls in question giggled. "No," Ashlie replied, "we're with your group."

"How'd you come to be mixed up with us?" Stanly asked.

"That's a _long_ story," Keely interrupted. "One that I'd prefer be retold while consuming copious amounts of hard liquor –"

"HELL YEAH!" Foote and Spence yelled, Spence adding on, "New plan for the rest of the day, dudes!"

"You wish," Keely snapped, "but as I was saying before being _interrupted_ ," she stressed the last word, though it appeared to have no effect on her charges, "since I'm not letting _any_ of you near alcohol, you can regale Stanly with it over burgers and fries at Wendy's instead."

"Why not Pizza Hut?" Thatcher grinned.

"If you think I'm going to allow another game of Extreme Frisbee to be played today, think again," Keely growled.

"To Wendy's, bros!" Spence announced. "Whoever reaches the car first gets to drive!" He headed for the group's vehicle, a 2018 Lincoln Navigator Reserve L that cost nearly $97,000, complete with 'DSRN23' license plate.

"I still have to unlock it," Keely called after him, digging in her purse. "How are you even going to get in it without…the…keys…?" she trailed off as she discovered the keys were missing. "Shit!" she cursed, "Guys, I lost the keys somehow!"

"No, ya didn't," Trigger assured her. Keely glanced up to see the submarine twirling on his finger the very set of keys she was looking for and grinning mischievously.

"How did you…?" Keely trailed off, stunned, then remembered a quality of most of the American submarines. "Sub-thief," she growled, extending her hand. "Give, now."

Trigger apparently had a death wish, for he ignored the annoyed CPO completely and yelled, "Yo, Spence-a-roonie! Think fast!", tossing the keys to the Fletcher-class destroyer.

"TRIGGER!" Keely roared, storming off to the car as the rest of the shipboys watched gleefully.

"Does something like this happen a lot around your group?" Chelsea asked Dyson.

"Usually every twenty minutes or so, on average." Dyson replied. "Honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't started smoking to calm her nerves."

"As big as that SUV of yours is, I don't think it'll fit everybody," Ashlie stated. "Not to mention I don't think I want to get into a moving vehicle driven by Spence," she muttered under her breath, causing Chelsea and the two Fletchers to laugh. "You two wanna ride with Chelsea and I in my car?"

"Sure!" Claxton nodded. "Give us a chance to talk without crazy antics from our brothers."

Further conversation was interrupted by a car starting and revving up loudly.

"We'll see you at Wendy's, ese…last one there buys lunch!" Espada yelled from behind the wheel of his sports car, Trigger grinning in the passenger seat.

"Shit, you brought the GT!" Spence yelled, referring to Espada's 2018 Ford GT. "How the hell am I supposed to catch you with _this_?" He gestured to the massive Lincoln.

"That's _your_ problem, homes!" the submarine laughed, gunning the engine and fishtailing wildly as he peeled out of the parking lot, the burning rubber of his tires acting like a smokescreen.

"Fucker," Spence muttered. "Come on, bros…I might not win, but I'm damn sure gonna give it the ol' college try. Let's mount up!"

"I hope you don't think I'm getting my car involved in that race," Ashlie motioned to a nearby Chevy Malibu as she, Chelsea, Claxton, and Dyson watched Spence and Foote stuff a wildly-protesting Keely into the front passenger seat of the Lincoln while Converse attempted to stop them, and Thatcher, Stanly, and Maya watched.

"Heck, no!" both Claxton and Dyson assured her. "That's all on them. We'll get there when we get there."

"Besides," Dyson added, "I don't believe in rushing through a date." He paused. "This can be a first date, right?"

The grins from both girls were all the answers the destroyers needed.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Converse was guiding a shell-shocked Keely into a seat at the Wendy's attached to a local mall.

"Here you go…sit right there. That's it…good. Now, I'll be right back, okay?"

Keely's response was to let out a whimper. The drive there was probably the most terrifying experience of her life thus far, and she'd experienced the chaos of a sinking aircraft carrier. She'd spent the first five minutes of the drive screaming her head off and maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the nearest 'oh-shit' bar as Spence took off from the parking lot doing about eighty; thankfully, any drivers ahead who saw the big SUV coming got out of the way. Spence then proceeded to turn to Keely and give her a lengthy lecture about distractions during road trips, all while Foote was holding the wheel.

She'd never been so glad to see a Wendy's in her life. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, she reached over, grabbed the keys from the ignition, and clutched them to her like Gollum held the One Ring. When Spence had protested, she'd emitted a feral growl, and the wild look in her eyes stopped anyone from trying to take the keys back. Her exit from the car had been less than graceful, she'd nearly fallen before Converse reached out to steady her. Her reaction to the drive was quickly forgotten, especially when the others spotted Stanly and Maya making out against his Viper.

"Here," Converse returned to the table and handed her a medium Coke. "I read somewhere Coke's got an anti-nausea agent in it, so that might help."

Keely took a big drink of her Coke, then took a deep breath to calm herself before turning to Converse. "Thanks."

"You okay now?" the destroyer asked.

Keely nodded. "Yeah. I'm never getting in any vehicle that Spence is driving _ever_ again, and I'm currently plotting his murder, but yeah, I'm okay now."

"You need comfort food," Converse replied, choking back laughter at Keely's comment about Spence. "What can I get you?"

"Triple-stack with everything, and add cheese and bacon," Keely replied.

Converse looked surprised. "Nice order…I like a woman who isn't afraid to eat something substantial."

Keely shrugged. "I like meat…what can I say?" When Converse grinned at her like an idiot, she realized how her last comment sounded and forced herself not to blush. "Mind out of gutter," she ordered him, "and go get my food."

"You know, technically I'm a Captain," Converse smirked. "So really, you can't be giving me orders."

"I can respect that," Keely nodded in understanding, then pointed to the ordering counter with a grin that for some reason did funny things to Converse's insides. "Now go get my food, _sir_."

"Fine," the destroyer acted melodramatically as he slouched off to the counter. Keely giggled and watched him go. Her charges might drive her to drink or cause her to want to tear her hair out, but at the end of the day they were also probably the best friends she'd ever had.

* * *

Meanwhile, life at the shipgirl base in Portsmouth, England had finally started to settle down. After the countless parades, ceremonies, awards, and anything else the United Kingdom could think of that would honor the newly-returned Royal Navy shipgirls had ceased, the various shipgirls were slowly becoming acclimated to life in the twenty-first century.

But there was one shipgirl the media refused to let go of: Titanic. The press coverage that her arrival in the UK had generated had made the excitement for Prince Harry's recent wedding seem trivial in comparison. But the liner had shunned the press, refusing to speak to any mainstream media, choosing instead to give interviews to writers from _Titanic Quarterly_ , the magazine published by the Titanic Historical Society, and liner-related groups based in Britain. She'd confined herself to the Portsmouth shipgirl base and hadn't set foot outside it since. The Royal Navy Police were in an ongoing battle with the press to keep reporters from sneaking on base to try and find her; Olympic had found several and 'reminded' them rather blatantly she was the only liner to ever ram and sink an enemy submarine, and unless they wanted to experience the event for themselves they'd best leave her sister ship alone. While all three Olympic-class sisters had standing open invitations to Titanic Belfast – they'd even been made Honorary Board Members – none of them had taken the opportunity to make the trip, stating the memories were still too painful.

Lusitania had stated she didn't blame her former competitor one bit; she still refused to visit the Old Head of Kinsale lighthouse, and Mauretania refused to set foot in Rosyth, just as Olympic had an aversion to Jarrow. Aquitania had taken a different outlook; she'd gotten drunk as a skunk while reminiscing about her 36-year career, caught a train to Faslane, found the area where the shipbreaking docks had been – now long-demolished and abandoned – and relieved herself, laughing raucously and yelling drunkenly about how "No' e'en tha' scrapper's torch coul' take me! Tongue ma' fart-box, ya fuckin' wallopers!"

The Twitter video of her little trip to Faslane – during which she assailed her followers with a very-off-key rendition of _Scotland the Brave_ and planted a Cunard house flag on the site – garnered 10,000 views in less than two hours. Commodore Collingwood was less than pleased – as were the Royal Navy higher-ups – but the representatives from Cunard found it funny and stated they were quite touched that one of their former 'employees', as it were, still had such a fierce loyalty to the company, going so far as to offer all four Cunarders jobs as Honorary Spokespersons.

Today, the Cunarders were off doing an appearance for Cunard, so that meant it was just the White Star trio that were hanging out together. They were passing by one of the common rooms when some of the dialogue could be heard through the open doorway.

"Are they watching a foreign film?" Britannic inquired as they listened to a man and a woman call to each other in German.

"Doesn't seem like something British ships would watch," Olympic commented as Titanic shrugged.

A violin started playing the notes of a piece that was painfully familiar. Titanic froze mid-step, and her companions did as well, their gazes snapping to their sister ship as the music continued. Then, to seemingly add insult to injury, a man who had a very nice voice – Gordon Holdom, as the girls later learned his name was – started singing.

" _Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee. There let the way appear, steps unto Heav'n…"_

"Sister…" Olympic trailed off as Britannic shook her head, noticing Titanic was somewhere far away.

"Just how it was played…" Titanic murmured.

Britannic looked nervous; she'd only been under construction barely three months when Titanic had sunk and hadn't even known about her sister until she'd met Olympic at Belfast in November 1914. Even then, the subject of the 'middle child' of the Olympic-class had always been a touchy subject for the eldest of the White Star trio, as she'd been over 500 miles away while her sister had been dying after hitting an iceberg. It still seemed as though Olympic had never forgiven herself for being so far away that fateful April night, even though the circumstances had been completely beyond her control.

" _All that Thou sendest me, in mercy giv'n. Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee."_

"I remember my strength fading as my hull sank lower…" Titanic murmured. "I stood on the Boat Deck, screaming at my passengers to get in the lifeboats, but they couldn't hear me. I knew hundreds of them would die, and there was nothing I could do about it."

" _Then, with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise…out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise."_

"Wallace and his musicians were heroes…I so wished they could've survived," she whispered. "And my Engineers, down in the very depths of my hull, keeping my power on for as long as they possibly could even though every one of them knew there was no chance of escape if they did…" She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I helped them keep the lights going, you know…even then I used shipgirl magic to help them." She gave a watery chuckle and her sisters smiled sadly.

The trio glanced into the common room, where _A Night to Remember_ was playing for ten or so destroyers, showing a final glimpse of Captain Smith – played by Laurence Naismith – standing on the bridge as it went under.

" _So, by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee."_

As the bridge went under and panic really set in, Titanic closed her eyes, preferring not to see what followed.

"I remember being in the wheelhouse next to Captain Smith…he had his hand on my wheel as the bridge started to go under. I so wanted him to try and save himself, but I knew he wouldn't." She smiled without opening her eyes, tears leaking out from under her eyelids. "Somehow, at the last moment, I reached out and grabbed his other hand, and I found I could actually touch him. He looked up in surprise, and when he saw me, he instinctively knew who I was…I don't know how he knew, I guess it was just the mariner in him." Her voice cracked. "I r-reached out an-and hugged him j-just as the wh-wheelhouse windows imploded, and th-that was the last thing I re-remember."

Her eyes opened in surprise as she felt two bodies impact her legs. Titanic looked down to see Jervis and Kelly both hugging her waist with everything they had and the other nine destroyers in the room seemingly waiting their turn. Seconds later, her sister ships embraced her from both sides as she mourned all those lost that night.

Olympic sighed inwardly as she embraced her younger sister. Perhaps she finally could let the events of April 1912 go. She had both her sisters with her now, just as it should've been back then. No reason to dwell on the past when they had so many bright years ahead of them.

Titanic knew she would be all right after this…she had her sisters and the Cunarders.

And she was quickly becoming a firm believer in the healing power of destroyer hugs as well.

* * *

John sighed in relief as he entered the quarters he shared with his cousins. He greatly preferred attending his current school over the one he'd gone to back in Alabama; as he was the only person at his grade level, he was permitted to do self-study and work at his own pace. Therefore, he was usually finished with his daily schoolwork by noon, after which he was dismissed and able to work on any homework at another location. He usually sat in a booth in the commissary until about three, then returned home to work on his drawings for the rest of the day. He smiled to himself, looking forward to graduation the following spring when he would be able to work on his drawings full-time and not have to worry about things he would never use again like algebra.

He opened the door to his bedroom, intent on putting his things down and changing out of his school uniform before getting some water from the kitchen. As the light from the hallway – he always kept his curtains drawn, so it was completely dark in his room – hit his desk, he was surprised to see a drawing he thought he'd lost.

 _Billy Ray or Jimmy Wayne must've found it somewhere in the house and put it there_ , he mused, going over to the desk for a closer look.

"Did you miss that?" a female voice purred, causing him to jump.

He glanced around frantically, unsure as to exactly where the voice was coming from.

A pair of blazing red eyes flashed open as the door slammed shut, followed by a seductive giggle that sent chills up his spine. He fumbled for his desk lamp and quickly clicked it on, giving light to the room.

His jaw dropped. Standing by the door was the girl from his drawings. Obviously not the _exact_ girl from his drawings, but the shipgirl who was the inspiration for the character dressed exactly like her, complete down to her wicked-looking weapons.

"' _Isumi Sendai: Yasen Akuma Senshi Yuwaku'_ , the light cruiser murmured, stalking towards him, her eyes trapping him like a snake did to rodent prey. John found himself backing up, unwittingly going in the direction of his bed, and stumbled and fell backwards onto the mattress when he reached the bed, having nowhere else to go.

The vision straight out of his fantasies grinned wickedly at his fumbling movements, and John was horribly embarrassed at the involuntary 'eep' he emitted when she straddled his lap and held one of her hand-blades against his throat.

"This is fun," Sendai grinned. "Usually the guy's restrained when I do this, but you play the part of the captive perfectly, and I didn't even have to tie you up."

"Huh?" John had no idea what she was talking about.

"Sorry," Sendai laughed, "that's a story for later. For now, though…" she trailed off and grinned, " _now_ we're going to talk about this character you created based off of me."

John figured the best thing to do was go along with whatever the crazy girl wanted and pray either of his cousins came home early and rescued him.

"I inspired you to create this character I'm dressed as, didn't I?" she asked.

John nodded. "You did."

"Why?" Sendai looked confused. "What's so special about me?"

"You seem to live every minute of every day to the fullest," John replied, shrugging. "Can't exactly put it into words, but there's something about you that draws me to you."

"The name you gave my character…Isumi…did you know that's the name of my first Captain?"

"That's why I gave it to you…figured you'd appreciate having another link to him."

Sendai lost some of her bravado and blushed faintly. "I loved it." She gave him a hopeful smile. "Did I really inspire you that much?"

John briefly fumbled in the bag that was still looped over his shoulder and pulled out his sketchbook. "This is the third one I've used since I been here, all filled with drawings of you and plans for a whole comic book series." He sighed. "My way of being close to you, I guess, or somethin' like that…Lord knows you're way outta my league."

"Who says?" Sendai barked indignantly, then she smirked sinfully. "I happen to think you're exactly what I'm looking for." She punctuated her statement with a movement of her hips that made John's eyes cross.

"I-I'm just glad you're not offended by the drawings," John ground out, desperately trying – and judging from the wicked grin on Sendai's face, failing spectacularly – to hide his body's natural reaction – he was, after all, a teenaged boy – to such a beautiful, scantily-clad woman in such close-proximity. "You could do real damage with those weapons."

"I don't need weapons to do damage," Sendai grinned, and John tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"I-I believe it."

"You seem to have another problem," Sendai leaned in and purred in his ear. "Seeing as how my character is a crime fighter and a problem-solver, I should help you, don't you think?"

"Urk…" John's brain was having trouble forming words at this point, let alone complete sentences.

Sendai leaned back and studied his face for a moment, then her eyes widened slightly, and that wicked grin returned.

"You're untouched…" she trailed off in amazement. "How is that possible?"

John looked away, embarrassed. "Not somethin' I brag about," he muttered.

Sendai giggled. "I think it's cute."

 _Great_ , John thought to himself. _The woman of my dreams thinks me having no experience is 'cute'. If that ain't a Kiss of Death I don't know what is_.

Sendai tilted his face back to meet her eyes. John blinked in surprise, noting her blazing red eyes had somehow been replaced by beautiful brown ones. The light cruiser smiled softly, all traces of sin and seduction gone. This was just a girl cuddling on the lap of a boy she liked.

"That just means you need experience," she stated, leaning in and nuzzling his ear. "And I happen to think I'm a _very_ good teacher…"

"Sweet Lord…" John groaned, his hands instinctively gripping Sendai's hips.

Sendai giggled, pulling back to look John in the eyes. "Yasen?"

"God, yes!" John's desperate tone caused the light cruiser to giggle.

"Ooh, I like it when they beg," she purred.

John regained his senses enough to murmur in her ear, "Only if you'll let me get you to do the same,"

Sendai's answering squeal, followed by her cry of "YASEN!" as she launched herself at him, told John she probably had no problem with that.

* * *

 **UP NEXT:** More insanity! A new foe from Headquarters rears its head! Thatcher helps out someone in need! DesDiv 6 gets a remodel! The Rhodes brothers find out about John and Sendai! Robertson gets more white hair, and the Rhodes brothers, Blaskewicz, and Gavin gain some!

Some pics for you (again, just delete the dashes...I think it's stupid FFN won't let you link pics.)  
 **CPO Keely Burton:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-L-n-V-k-J-K-h-.-j-p-g  
 **Keely's Car:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-L-J-2-W-T-a-7-.-p-n-g  
 **CPT Maya Kretzin:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-o-t-9-m-D-h-O-.-j-p-g  
 **Jenni's Dress:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-w-e-r-Y-H-0-j-.-j-p-g  
 **Chelsea Amos:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-S-M-U-T-J-A-B-.-j-p-g  
 **Ashlie Franklin:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-k-h-O-m-P-Z-1-.-j-p-g  
 **DesRon 23 SUV:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-B-k-G-l-9-y-F-.-p-n-g  
 **Espada's Car:** h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-i-.-i-m-g-u-r-.-c-o-m-/-M-B-9-q-P-3-a-.-j-p-g

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	7. Entrances, Entrepreneurs, & Excitement

**DISCLAIMER:** **See Chapter One. None of the music referenced in this chapter is mine, either. If it was, life would be a helluva lot better.**  


Again, apologies for the length of time between updates. Writer's block played a big part in it. Again, one thing that was promised in this chapter didn't make it in, but it will happen next chapter.

I hope everyone is still reading this! Thanks to **AyameKitsune** , **Shade1332** , **The Glorious Executioner** , **Corporal Tommy** , **KINGTIGERACE** , **ThatDrocker59** , and **Danny79** for reviewing Chapter Six!

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Entrances, Entrepreneurs, & Excitement  
**

Rhodes unlocked the door to his quarters with a smile. The workday was officially over, and the weekend lay ahead, starting with another double date for himself and his brother with Haruna and Kirishima.

He stopped in the middle of the living room. Nothing seemed out of place, but he could feel there was something amiss.

"What's up, Billy Ray?" Jimmy looked around. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I dunno," Rhodes replied. "There's something, but I can't seem to put my finger on it…"

John's door cracked open, and their cousin stuck his head out sleepily, coming fully-awake in seconds when he spotted the two doctors.

"Oh! Y'all are home! Welcome home!" He grinned innocently, punctuating it with a nervous laugh. He slipped through the door without opening it very wide and pulled on a t-shirt to go with his boxers.

"You takin' a nap at this time of day?" Jimmy asked, surprised. Rhodes remained silent, merely quirking an eyebrow at John's actions.

"Takin' a nap? Oh, yeah, yeah…that's what I was doin', all right…takin' a nap. Gettin' rested up for the weekend. Sure 'nough," He faked a yawn. "Boy, I must be more tired than I thought…think I'll go back to bed. I'll see y'all later."

He moved to go back into his room.

"Stop, turn around, and come sit down," Rhodes ordered. John cringed but did as he asked, seating himself in one of the recliners in the living room.

"Now then, what's goin' on?" Rhodes asked, sitting down on a sofa opposite the recliner.

"Nothin' besides me bein' kept from my beauty sleep," John grumbled, glancing around nervously.

Rhodes sighed. "John Enos, you never could lie worth a flip, and it ain't gotten better. Now why don't you just 'fess up as to what's goin' on?"

John shook his head. "You just bein' paranoid, Billy Ray…ain't nothin' out the ordinary goin' on here."

The door to John's bedroom opened and John face-palmed as Sendai stagger-walked out wearing one of John's school uniform shirts and apparently little else. The shirt was buttoned haphazardly, and was at least two sizes too big on her, but judging by her glazed eyes and sex hair she didn't really care. She made her way over to John and straddled his lap, nuzzling his neck and grinding her hips.

"Yasen," she purred, then noticed the other two individuals in the room, a widely-grinning Jimmy Wayne and Rhodes, who looked like he was about to lose it.

"Hi!" She giggled and grinned, flashing an 'ok' sign with the fingers of her right hand.

"What y'all been up to?" Jimmy Wayne managed to get that question out before he cracked up laughing.

Sendai apparently found his question funny too, for she giggled and cheered, "Yasen!" before nuzzling John's neck and laying her head on his shoulder. John looked like he was torn between wanting to be exactly where he was – only without his cousins there to witness it – and being anywhere else at that moment.

Rhodes sighed. He knew John was nearly an adult and that neither he nor his brother could watch him at all times due to their work duties, so giving him some leeway had been a given from the beginning of John's stay with them, but actually _knowing_ what he got up to was a completely different story.

"At least tell me y'all are using protection," he ground out.

"Protection?" Sendai tilted her head questioningly, then laughed when Rhodes looked like he was about to lose it. " _Hai_ , we're using protection…don't worry," she amended, nuzzling John. "He wouldn't do it otherwise." She paused, kissing her lover briefly. "And I respect him greatly for that."

John shrugged. "One day we won't need to use it, but until we're ready for little light cruisers runnin' around, I'm wearing safety nets on my torpedo."

Rhodes face-palmed at the thought of John getting Sendai pregnant. Jimmy apparently found his cousin's way of phrasing things quite humorous, while Sendai appeared to find the notion of someday having John's children to be a massive turn-on, for she jumped off his lap, pulled him to his feet, and all but dragged him towards his bedroom.

"Gotta go, y'all!" John looked back at his cousins with a goofy grin.

"Guess we'll talk more later?" Jimmy laughed.

John managed to flash a thumbs-up before Sendai dragged him into his room. The door slammed shut, and there was a loud 'thump' on the other side, followed by a cry of "YASEN!"

Rhodes sighed and turned to his brother. "I have this sinking feeling we're going to have a second cousin in this house within the next year and a half."

Jimmy's response was to burst out laughing again.

* * *

Back in the United States, Robertson had gotten permission to bring in a U.S. Navy 'efficiency expert' in the hopes of curbing certain…tendencies in various shipboys and girls. He'd just finished going over the expense books for the base and had recommended numerous cuts and redistributions of funds, and now he and Fleet Admiral Robertson were headed to the base auditorium where he would be speaking to the shipboys and girls.

"I think you'll find them very interesting, Captain," Robertson stated. "Some of their personalities are a bit much, but once they get to know you you'll essentially be part of the family here."

Captain Slade Ramsey shook his head. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm not here to be their friend. You asked me to come in and make sure your base was running at peak efficiency, and that's what I'm here to do. No more, no less. Whether or not your personnel like me has no bearing whatsoever in how well I do my job."

 _Wanna bet?_ Robertson thought, knowing that several of his more…spirited personnel could make Ramsey's job quite difficult if they so desired.

They entered the auditorium and went up on the stage. Robertson saw numerous shipgirls sitting in the audience, but several notable ones were missing, including DesRon 23. He sighed, wishing for at least _one_ day where sanity got to prevail. Then he noticed Chief Burton walking in, looking tired and very stressed. Leaving Captain Ramsey looking over his notes, he walked offstage and made his way over to her.

"Chief," he greeted, "where are your charges?"

"In the anteroom, sir," Keely replied. "They all either needed to use the bathroom or were getting drinks out of the machines…" she trailed off before groaning and realizing, "…and why did I leave them alone when they've probably got something planned?"

"If you don't mind me saying so, Chief, you look pretty tired."

Keely proceeded to regale Robertson of the events of what she'd personally deemed the 'Chuck E. Cheese Incident'.

The Fleet Admiral facepalmed. "I was hoping having a minder would curtail stuff like that…"

A throat clearing behind him caused him to turn back to the stage. Captain Ramsey was indicating that he was ready to begin. Robertson sighed.

"I'll deal with what you just told me later. Go get your boys in here, Chief."

Keely's cell phone pinged, indicating a text message. She pulled it out and checked it, sighing when she read the message.

"It's from Aulick, sir…he said the group will be in in a few minutes."

"Fair enough," Robertson replied. "We can start without them. Just tell them to come in quietly."

He walked back onstage and went up to the podium.

"Thank you all for coming. Our guest today is Captain Slade Ramsey, an efficiency expert from the Navy's Personnel Bureau. He's been assigned here to get our base running more smoothly, and he'll be talking to you about what you can do to help in that regard, so let's welcome him. Captain Ramsey."

Ramsey walked up to the podium to a smattering of applause. "Thank you, Fleet Admiral Robertson. Good morning, everyone." He held up several sheets of paper. "I have here a list of the shipboys and girls assigned to this base, and I can immediately see that not everyone is here. Where is the group known as DesRon 23?"

At his question, Keely stood up from her seat. "They're in the lobby, sir…they texted me not even two minutes ago to say they'd be in momentarily."

"All well and good, Chief," Ramsey replied, "but they're on the Navy's schedule, not the other way around. Please get them in here."

Keely turned and headed for the lobby when a Rebel yell burst over the auditorium loudspeakers, followed by the theme song from the TV show _King of the Hill_. DesRon 23 and Trigger all bounced into the auditorium on Hoppity-Hops. Keely facepalmed as her charges bounced around like bunnies on crack while the various shipgirls already in the audience watched and laughed. The group halted in front of the stage, coming to attention and saluting Robertson exactly as the music ended.

"DesRon 23, reporting as ordered, Admiral!" they chorused. Robertson smiled thinly and returned their salute.

"Thanks, guys…please take your seats."

Ramsey counted them as they sat down by Keely. "One of them is missing." He checked his records. "Where is submarine Espada?"

In answer to his question, the loudspeakers sounded off again.

 _VIVA LA RAZA! I lie, I cheat, I steal! I lie, I cheat, I steal!_

Espada walked in, grinning widely and wearing a t-shirt that had the outline of a _Balao_ -class submarine's conning tower with his hull number (355) on it. Above the conning tower outline was the phrase ' _Los Loco Balaos_ '.

" _Orale, vatos!_ What's up?" the submarine jumped onto the back of an empty seat and somehow balanced there briefly before walking towards his friends using the backs of the seats. Reaching DesRon 23's row, he jumped down and plopped himself in a seat, grinning at the two officers on stage. Robertson looked resigned, as though he'd come to expect things like this, while Ramsey merely rose an eyebrow.

"Walking into a room does not require you to announce your presence like that, Espada…please refrain from doing so again."

DesRon 23 and their two submarine friends looked at each other, then back at Ramsey before bursting out laughing. Even Keely was struggling to hold back a smirk; if the officer at the podium thought simply telling DesRon 23 what they should and shouldn't do would get them to automatically follow the rules, he was _very_ sadly mistaken.

Ramsey returned his attention to the rest of the audience, but the loudspeakers blared again, this time a dirge of eighties pop music. He noticed one of the escort carriers in the audience was literally vibrating in excitement. Odd.

 _Revvin' up your engine…listen to her howlin' roar…_

"Eeeeee!" the previously-mentioned escort carrier began squealing and bouncing in her seat as a cruiser and the two Japanese submarines stationed at Norfolk attempted to calm her while suppressing smiles.

 _Metal under tension, beggin' you to touch and go…_

As the loudspeakers blared " _Highway to the danger zone"_ the door to the anteroom burst open and Enterprise marched in, followed by Yorktown, Hornet, Saratoga, Lexington, and Intrepid. All – save Intrepid, who looked confused as to why they were doing this – sported smirks on their faces that said they knew they were experts at their craft and weren't shy about showing it off.

Outwardly, Ramsey continued his blank façade, but inside he had butterflies the size of B-36 Peacemakers. He'd looked forward to this assignment because he knew it meant possibly getting a chance to meet his great-great grandfather's ship, but of course his job came first before any socializing with the shipgirls.

He hadn't counted on Saratoga being stop-traffic gorgeous.

As the music faded, Ramsey continued as though the interruption had never happened. "As I was saying –"

The loudspeakers blared again, this time a tune that Ramsey vaguely recognized from his younger days. _Where have I heard that song before?_ He thought to himself, then inwardly rolled his eyes when the lyrics began.

 _When it comes crashing down, and it hurts inside…you gotta take a stand, it don't help to hide._

As the lyrics started, the six Iowas – in order of hull sequence – marched down the aisle to find their seats to the cheers and supportive yells of various other shipgirls. As the chorus blared, Ramsey couldn't help but acknowledge the song was perfect for the six battleships.

 _I am a real American! Fight for the rights of every man! I am a real American! Fight for what's right…fight for your life!_

He watched with a blank expression as the six battleships took their seats, then glanced up at the entrance, pausing briefly before speaking again.

"I sincerely hope that's everyone who wishes to make an entrance like that." He glanced at Iowa. "Care to tell me why you and your sisters chose to announce yourselves in that manner?"

New Jersey smirked at him. "Because 'Murica! Fuck yeah!"

"Damn straight!" One of the DesRon 23 shipboys jumped to his feet and yelled, "USA! USA! USA!"

This of course started a chant that went around the room. Ramsey noted that the newly-arrived group of Russian shipgirls were watching the proceedings with interest. When the 'USA' chant began, one of the Russian battleships leapt to her feet.

" _Prekrasno!_ Yes, we love Home of Whopper! Go baseball and apple pie!"

"Yay!" a couple of Russian destroyers cheered.

Ramsey sighed; apparently this meeting was going to take a lot longer than he originally planned.

* * *

"…and that's about all I have for now. Thank you all for your attention, and I hope we can see this base running much more smoothly in the coming weeks." Ramsey ended his presentation and immediately walked offstage without so much as a goodbye.

Robertson sighed, bracing himself for the backlash that was to come. The sea of grief-stricken and enraged faces that looked back at him were not going to be easily dealt with.

"I have a feeling you all have some thoughts on Captain Ramsey's presentation?" he asked, trying his best to see what little humor there was in the situation he now found himself in.

"Admiral," Jersey began, "I can put up with a lot of crap because I enjoy serving my country, but there is no way in fucking hell I'm gonna allow that prick to cut the fucking ice cream budget by _seventy percent_."

Her statement was punctuated by whimpers from several devastated destroyers.

"Yarr! If it's a fight he be wantin', then it's a fight he'll be gettin'!" Kidd growled.

With considerable trepidation, Robertson glanced over at DesRon 23, who – to his surprise – were sitting there like they didn't have a care in the world.

"What about you guys?" He asked. "Are you going to go along with his part for you?" Ramsey had ordered DesRon 23 to move back to their old dorm on base and use the 'Epically Awesome Party House' only when on registered leave. The group's response had been to laugh their asses off, and the Fleet Admiral knew there was no chance they'd even consider it. _I've seen that house,_ he thought, _and I can't blame them one bit for not wanting to leave it. Hell, I'm a five-star Admiral and my home isn't even half that nice._

Several of the destroyer boys smirked as Aulick sighed and stood up. "Admiral, I speak for myself and my brothers, both design-wise and honorary." He paused. "And I can say our decision is unanimous: It's On."

Fear crackled up Robertson's spine and a deep sense of foreboding washed over him as he pondered what might become of his base from those two innocent sounding little words. He only spared a moment to pity Ramsey for what was headed his way. _Poor bastard. Oh well…he brought it on himself._

"No." Saratoga's voice caused all other conversations to stop. Robertson glanced at the fleet carrier, who – he noticed – was apparently channeling Mutsu with her devious grin. "He's a descendant of one of my Captains," she purred. "Leave him to me…I will break him and then rebuild him."

Robertson had to admit he now felt a slight bit of pity for Ramsey. Having destroyers after you was one thing…a legendary carrier was quite another. He did spare a moment to pull out his phone and send a text to Avers:

 **New Rule for you…don't ask.  
** _27) Regardless of how legendary you are or how high your 'Level of Awesome' is, you are not permitted to have your own entrance music._

* * *

Gavin Blaskewicz sat in his office at the repair yard and tried to make sense of the report he was doing. While it might look like he was being a productive member of the World Kanmusu Fleet, his mind was over in the docks, the same place it had been for the past three days.

His sisters were all receiving their refits. He'd been barred from helping – only natural, seeing as he was a boy and they were girls – but that didn't mean he couldn't be close to them in spirit. His father was currently spending the day with Tenryu; not having her four charges around had left the light cruiser at loose ends, so the Supply Officer had decided to distract her with an action movie marathon. Gavin had joined them for a few hours, but after watching all five _Die Hard_ movies back-to-back and then both _Under Siege_ movies, he'd desperately needed a break. He glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of his screen.

 _1530 hours…Akashi said they'd be coming out of it about this time. Hope everything went okay._

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts.

"It's open," he called, and barely paid attention to the sound of the door opening.

"Hi, Gavin-san!" Ikazuchi called out, and Gavin's eyes shot to the door, a welcoming smile on his face.

He froze. The person at the door had Ikazuchi's voice, but Ikazuchi had never looked like _that_. The same could be said for Inazuma and Akatsuki, who had joined her in the doorway.

The Akatsuki-class destroyers were his height now. Ikazuchi's hair, once shoulder-length, was now down to the small of her back; several more strands hung down, framing her face. Her eyes, previously bright and innocent, now gleamed with the same mischievous light he'd seen in Mutsu's eyes when she was teasing Nagato. Inazuma's hair hung loosely, easily falling over her shoulders, and her eyes smiled at Gavin playfully. Akatsuki's dark hair hung midway down her back and her eyes held the same womanly confidence as her sister ships. Their bodies – now those of girls the same age as Gavin – were wearing the same outfits from before, albeit resized to fit their new dimensions. Whereas before the trio had looked adorable in their little sailor outfits, now they looked like something straight out of numerous schoolgirl fantasies.

Ladies and gentlemen, DesDiv 6 had officially grown up.

And their poor brother had absolutely no idea how to handle it.

"H-hi…" Gavin trailed off helplessly, causing all three to burst out giggling.

"Ara, ara~…cat got your tongue, Gavin-san?" Akatsuki grinned.

"What do you think of our refits, nanodesu?" Inazuma asked.

Gavin struggled to remember his vocabulary and not simply communicate using caveman grunts.

"Um, yeah…um…they're…nice? Y-you look…good?" He stuttered nervously.

His reply only earned him more mischievous grins and giggles.

"We better go find Mom and Dad," Akatsuki informed her sisters. "I bet Akashi-san's texted them by now letting them know we're out of the docks. We'll see you at home, Gavin-san." She grinned and sauntered – _fucking sauntered_ , Gavin swore – out of the room.

"Byeee…" Ikazuchi and Inazuma chorused and waved, Inazuma adding a 'nanodesu', before following their sister.

Gavin collapsed into his seat, feeling like he'd been hit between the eyes with a brick. He pulled out his phone and texted both Blaskewicz and Tenryu.

 **911…GIRLS OUT OF REFIT…BRACE YOURSELVES. #Heartwarming2Heartbreakers #AllGrownUp**

Then he realized what his brotherly duties now entailed.

"Crap…I am gonna have to kick so much ass…" he trailed off, thinking of all the male personnel who would notice his sisters.

"How so, Gavin-san?" Hibiki's voice asked from the doorway.

Gavin glanced up and his mind shut down. Now he felt like the entire masonry department at Home Depot had fallen on his head.

Hibiki gazed at him with a demure smile. But whereas that smile was cute in her previous form, with her refit it was simply breathtaking. Her silver hair fell in silken waves past her shoulders, down almost to her upper back, and her uniform draped over a svelte body that had curves in exactly the right places. Gavin's stoic yet adorable best friend had become a temptress.

It was at that precise moment in time that Lieutenant (Engineer) Dr. Gavin Blaskewicz knew he was utterly and royally _screwed_.

"Meep…" He inwardly cursed at his inability to form words.

To his utter despair, Hibiki giggled softly. "I'm sure you're quite busy, so I'll go catch up with my sisters." She turned to go, then glanced back suddenly, her silver hair shifting and causing Gavin to yearn to run his hands through it. "I'll see you later, _da_?"

Gavin nodded mutely, and Hibiki gave him another demure smile.

" _Khorosho_ ," she murmured – the new tone of her trademark word sending a crackle of…something…up Gavin's spine – and was gone, the reverse view just as pleasing as her forward view.

Gavin let his head thump against his desk. "God, I am in sooo much trouble…" he groaned.

* * *

Eddie Blaskewicz stared at his phone's screen. He and Tenryu had both received the message from Gavin, but they couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"What do you think Gavin meant by this message?" He asked his wife.

Tenryu shrugged. "No idea…I'll just be glad when the girls come home. It's been a very quiet three days."

Blaskewicz couldn't argue with that. He was about to reply when they heard the front door open.

"Mom? Dad? We're home!" Akatsuki's voice called out.

"Mom?" Tenryu glanced up at her husband in confusion. "Since when am I 'Mom' and not 'Mama'?"

DesDiv 6 piled in the doorway and Blaskewicz lost the ability to speak due to total shock. In response to his wife, he merely motioned to the doorway. Tenryu looked in that direction and her jaw hit the floor.

"Girls?!" She gasped.

"Ara, ara~…now we look like Real Ladies!" Akatsuki giggled.

Tenryu pulled out her phone and typed a text message. Seconds later, Blaskewicz's phone vibrated, and he pulled it out and opened the message function.

 **Keep the girls busy…I need to go KILL Akashi.**

"Huh? Why?" Blaskewicz asked.

"Because she gave my girls too _much_ of an upgrade!" Tenryu growled through her teeth while maintaining a welcoming smile for her four adopted now-teenage daughters.

"How about we take the four of them shopping on the mainland instead?" He asked. "I mean, obviously any clothes they have aren't going to fit them now, so that needs to be remedied."

"Shopping?!" Ikazuchi, Inazuma, and Akatsuki asked excitedly.

Tenryu groaned, knowing her plans to slowly eviscerate Akashi had been completely derailed. "Fine…but lemme call Tatsuta first; she'll probably want to come along." The unspoken thought was, _I'm never gonna hear the end of this._

Blaskewicz pulled out his phone again and texted Gavin.

 **We're going shopping on the mainland to get the girls new wardrobes…care to play bag-holder with me?**

He got a response a couple minutes later.

 **Can't…sorry. Really busy.**

"Crap," the Supply Officer muttered. He was going to be playing Pack Mule alone.

The following morning brought new changes in the household. Blaskewicz entered the kitchen to find Tenryu staring hungrily at the coffeemaker while it brewed – no change there, at least – while Gavin – already in his uniform – was hunched over a bowl of cereal looking like a zombie. He'd obviously not had a good night's rest. Deciding against attempting a conversation, Blaskewicz merely patted his son's shoulder – earning him a caveman-like grunt of acknowledgement – and headed over to the counter to kiss his wife good morning.

The peaceful morning was shattered as a chorus of pounding footsteps was heard. Joji was the first to appear, heading straight over to his very-full food bowl; Gavin had apparently filled it when he came into the kitchen. Three of the girls were next, chattering and giggling. Ikazuchi wore a set of flannel pajamas that seemed at least one size too large for her; she looked more adorable than anything. Inazuma had on a huge t-shirt that came down to her knees; when she flopped down at the breakfast table, her shirt raised up to show a pair of small cotton shorts. Akatsuki wore a lavender tank top and shorts combo; she stretched as she walked into the kitchen, causing her tank top to ride up and expose several inches of washboard abs.

Blaskewicz shook his head, remembering how only a week or so ago, his daughters had tumbled into the kitchen in their jammies like a group of overexcited puppies. Now they were young women with their own senses of style. He sighed, sad that those days were now over.

Movement from the doorway – along with a strangled noise from Gavin – alerted him that Hibiki had also entered the room. The youngest member of DesDiv 6 wore a man's long-sleeve dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and her snowy hair was mussed from sleep. Blaskewicz had never seen his youngest daughter look like that, though he figured it probably wasn't intentional; Hibiki was just dressing for comfort.

"Good morning, Gavin-san," Hibiki murmured sleepily in Russian.

"Morning, Hibiki-chan," Gavin replied in the same language, smiling briefly before returning his intense concentration to his cereal bowl.

The silver-haired destroyer sat down in her usual spot at the kitchen table, curling one leg underneath her and folding the other against her body, causing the shirt to slip down and reveal her now-mile-long legs. When these movements allowed a glimpse of a pair of scarlet red lace boy shorts to appear underneath the shirt, Blaskewicz figured he'd have to make a rule about proper breakfast attire. Before he could speak, however, Gavin gulped down the milk in his cereal bowl and shot to his feet.

"Gotta get to the office," he muttered, quickly washing his bowl and spoon placing them in the dish drain to dry. He grabbed his computer bag, bid his other sisters a good morning, kissed his mother on the cheek, gave Joji a pat, and was out the door like he was being shot at.

Blaskewicz was surprised for a moment, then shrugged and chalked his son's hurried exit up to a big workload at the repair yard. _Must be a lot of refits going on_ , he mused. Then he noticed his wife's concerned expression as she gazed at the shut front door and figured Gavin's odd behavior might be more serious than he'd first thought.

* * *

Robertson sat in his office wondering how in the hell his life had gotten so insane. It seemed as if every other day he was dealing with another bout of kanmusu shenanigans, and certain individuals seemed to take each new day as a 'how-can-we-make-the-Admiral's-hair-turn-whiter' challenge.

He glanced at the clock, which told him it was just past lunch. The Admiral was just starting to think the base might make it through one day chaos-free when there was a knock on his door and Arizona, Nevada, and Oklahoma entered, all three of them looking like they wanted to be anywhere else at that moment.

Robertson sighed inwardly and braced himself. "What is it?" He asked, mentally cringing as though expecting the world to fall on his head.

Arizona reached into her coat and produced a flash drive. "Sir, some personnel created a commercial for their new side business, and they wanted to let you watch it before they buy some airtime on the local stations."

Robertson blinked and stared up at the battleship for a moment. Whatever he'd been expecting, this certainly wasn't it.

"I don't see any harm in that," he reasoned. "At least the commercial was submitted to me for final approval before they allowed it to air."

Arizona nodded as Robertson plugged the flash drive into his laptop, and they all crowded around to watch it.

The scene opened with Thatcher sitting at a kitchen table looking over a pile of paperwork with a stressed expression on his face.

" _Hi, everybody!"_ a voiceover began. The voice was familiar to Robertson, but he couldn't place it.

"Whose voice is that?" He asked. "The guy sounds really familiar."

"Hank Azaria using his Dr. Nick Riviera voice from _The Simpsons_ ," Nevada replied. "Aulick told me they spared no expense in getting him."

Robertson had to give the group credit for the move; a notable actor did give their commercial some credit.

" _Tired of paying out the wazoo for medical bills?"_ Dr. Nick continued. Thatcher looked up at the camera and nodded.

" _Wish there was a way to wellness while saving money at the same time?"_ Thatcher nodded again.

" _Well, congratulations…you're in luck!"_ Thatcher faked surprise, clapping a hand over his face.

" _DesRon 23 will perform any operation for $229.45!"_ Dr. Nick stated cheerfully as all color drained from Robertson's face and the three battleships beside him groaned. _"Our lightly-trained medical personnel will use 'How-To' manuals, WebMD, Wikipedia, and various spare parts that are lying around to make sure you're as well as possible before leaving our office."_

The screen showed various shots of DesRon 23, Trigger, and Espada looking through various books while holding surgical instruments or scrolling through the previously-mentioned websites on their tablets or phones. Robertson felt as though he were having an out-of-body experience…each sentence of the commercial kept getting worse.

" _There's no procedure we turn down, because each one is an adventure in learning!"_ Dr. Nick informed the viewing audience. _"Call 1-800-DOCTORF today! The 'F' stands for 'Fletcher'! Goodbye, everybody!"_

Robertson turned to Nevada as the clip ended. "Where are they?"

"I think they're over at the carrier dorms," Oklahoma replied. "Apparently Saratoga's enlisted their help with ideas for Captain Ramsey."

Robertson cringed. _Great…just what I needed_. His thoughts of unbridled chaos were put on hold when Arizona's phone pinged, and she pulled it out.

"It's from Iowa…" she trailed off as she pulled up the text, then her eyes widened in astonishment. "Holy crap," she muttered.

"What is it?" Nevada asked.

"Did you know we can summon our hulls?" Arizona asked the other two battleships, who – judging by their looks of utter shock – hadn't had a clue about this.

"Um, no, we can't," Oklahoma replied. "What makes you think that?"

"Because of this," Arizona stated, turning her phone so everyone could see.

Robertson nearly had heart failure when he sighted what appeared to be a WWII-era Soviet submarine knifing through the waters off Virginia Beach.

"Call the Coast Guard!" He ordered. "If they've seen that sub, National Security is probably going apeshit right now and calling the Russian Embassy! Tell them she's one of our shipgirls…S-13!" He turned to Nevada. "And someone get out there to her and find out how and why she did it!"

* * *

Soviet submarine S-13 - or Captain 2nd Rank Alexandra Marineskova, as she'd chosen to call herself – sighed contentedly as her newly-summoned hull cut through the Atlantic Ocean a few hundred yards off Virginia Beach. She was running surfaced and well within view of anyone who was on the beach – and probably quite a few satellites and Coast Guard radars – but at this moment, she couldn't care less. She took another swig from the large bottle of Smirnoff vodka and belted out another verse of _Sviashchennaia Vojna_ (The Sacred War) in Russian.

"Let us put a bullet into the brow of the rotten Fascist vermin…let us make a strong coffin for such breed! Let our noble wrath seethe like waves! The national war is going…the Sacred War!"

She took another swig from the bottle and leaned heavily against the rail of her conning tower. Then she realized she'd finished the song and pouted a moment in a drunken haze before beginning a very-off-key rendition of _Greetings from Katyusha_. She was halfway through the song when she noticed a fellow kanmusu sailing alongside her hull and trying to flag her down.

"WHAT?!" She bellowed down to the hazy figure.

"Permission to come aboard, _chica_?" The unknown kanmusu called up.

" _Bez raznitsy!_ (Whatever!)" Alexandra yelled back.

The unknown kanmusu apparently took her lackadaisical response as consent, for a few minutes later he was climbing up the back of her conning tower to join her.

" _Hola, chica!_ " he grinned. Alexandra recognized him as the Hispanic submarine that was usually included the insane antics of those nine rowdy American destroyers.

"We-hic-welcome aboard," she greeted him. "Vodka?" she offered her guest the open bottle. "Is passable…not as good as vodka from Motherland, but it will do in pinch." When Espada politely refused, she took another healthy swig from the bottle. "It blocks out the screams of the dead…helps me ignore the fact that I am a mass murderer."

* * *

Espada had been running some exercises underwater when his sonar had registered a sudden displacement of water near the surface. He'd come to periscope depth and was quite surprised to see a Russian submarine heading towards him on a parallel course. He'd surfaced and decided to head over for a look, only to find the Soviet subgirl leaning against the conning tower blind stinking drunk and guzzling straight vodka like it was water. She'd discarded that huge, enveloping coat she'd been wearing ever since she arrived, and was now dressed in a standard Soviet-era Russian Navy uniform.

Said uniform fit her extremely well, but Espada chose to ignore that bit of information for the moment and instead concentrated on the fact that she'd just informed him she was a mass murderer.

"How so, _chica_?" He asked.

The Soviet submarine turned to him and scoffed. "You must not know my story, then," she replied. "You are not aware of how I sank two ships carrying civilian refugees and killed over 14,000 people." She took a big gulp of vodka. "Of how many on those two ships were women and children fleeing our rampaging armies, only to die at sea in the dark of night, the ships that were to have been their salvation turned into harbingers of death." She took another gulp of vodka. "That is my legacy and my penance…to be forever haunted by the terrified screams of thousands." She upended the bottle and drained it before throwing it across the deck, where it smashed against the opposite bulkhead. "And I was brought back from the beyond for that?!" she screamed. "So that I could hear them once more?! Being cut up at scrapyard was mercy for me! It meant the screams stopped…it meant blessed silence! Was that why they brought me back? Because I was not tortured enough by the ghosts of my innocent victims?!" She looked up at the heavens and screamed. "I'M SORRY! IT WAS WAR! I HAD NO CHOICE! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I! HAD! NO! CHOICE!"

Espada didn't' really know what to say at this point; what _could_ he say, really? He had no experiences to compare it to, seeing as how his construction had been cancelled; he'd never even been laid down. However, he did pride himself on being somewhat of a ladies' man, so he sidled up to the Russian subgirl and placed his hand on her shoulder. S-13 glanced up at him, her eyes those of someone under constant torment, whether real or imagined.

Espada said nothing, merely drew her in for a hug. The moment his arms went around her, the Russian submarine seemed to wilt, and she released a shuddering gasp before dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs. It didn't seem as though her emotional breakdown was going to stop anytime soon, so Espada maneuvered them against the bulkhead and then slid down so they were sitting on the deck. He let her cry for a few minutes before suddenly remembering they were heading south down the East Coast; he figured he might want to point them back towards Norfolk before they wound up docking in Charleston.

"Da~?"

The American submarine glanced up to see one of S-13's fairies peeking out of the conning tower hatch.

"Wassup, _ese_?" Espada smiled in greeting at the squat little Russian. "She's not in any condition to do anything…think you could get us pointed back in the direction of Norfolk?"

"Da~…" The conning tower hatch clanged shut and shortly after, Espada could feel the hull shifting as the submarine made its turn. The sudden change in motion caused S-13 to stir, and glance around.

"We're changing course…who ordered that?" she demanded.

"I did," Espada replied. "Admiral Robertson wants to know how you summoned your hull, so we gotta head back for you to talk to him."

S-13 sniffled. "I do not feel like talking right now, but in Soviet Russia, you are not given choice of answering when asked question." She sighed. "Very well…I will speak with him."

"Want me to come with you?" Espada asked. "You seem like you could use an _amigo_ in there with you."

S-13 favored him with a watery smile. " _Da_ …I believe I could." She got to her feet and glanced out at the ocean passing by. "It is not hard to summon hull…simply think of it in your mind, extend your arm outward, and it will appear."

"Dunno if that'd work for me," Espada replied. "I was never laid down, so I technically don't have a hull form."

"Try anyways," S-13 encouraged. "What harm could it do?"

Espada shrugged, seeing her point. _What the hell_ , he thought, and performed the motions as his companion indicated, closing his eyes and concentrating on the image in his mind of a _Balao_ -class submarine with the number '355' on its conning tower. Within minutes, the sound of rushing water, followed by S-13's giggle – Espada had to admit he thought the sound adorable – alerted him to the fact that something had happened. He opened his eyes to find a _Balao_ -class submarine with his hull number cruising alongside the Soviet submarine.

" _Increíble_ (Awesome)…" he trailed off, amazed at his never-built form taking solid shape.

"Indeed," S-13 responded, leaning on the railing next to him. "This opens up whole other realm of possibilities, no?"

Espada nodded. "We could make a killing on a side business, giving tours of our hulls and taking people out on cruises."

Their conversation was broken by Espada's phone blaring the chorus to Cypress Hill's _Insane in the Membrane_ , which had been – by a group consensus – chosen as the official theme for DesRon 23.

" _¿Que pasa?_ " he answered the call.

" _Dude, how the hell did you and the Russian subgirl get your hull forms to appear like that?"_ Spence asked excitedly. _"We gotta know!"_

Espada looked toward land and saw nine destroyers and another submarine moving to intercept them. He grinned and turned to S-13.

"You were right, _Trece_ (Thirteen), the possibilities are endless!"

The Russian submarine smiled shyly. "Call me Alexandra."

* * *

Robertson drummed his fingers on his desk, anxiously awaiting a call from the Coast Guard on the developing situation. Arizona had gone down to the docks to await the pair, having collected Rear Admiral Shastokov and Aurora en route. Nevada and Oklahoma were watching developments through the window overlooking the shipyard.

"Uh-oh…" Oklahoma trailed off.

Robertson resisted the urge to whimper pitifully and turned to the battleship in question with a sense of foreboding.

"What now?" He asked, almost afraid to guess.

"I think the knowledge – whatever the process might be – of how to summon hull forms has spread, sir," Nevada looked at Robertson with concern.

The Fleet Admiral rose and looked out the window, then did a double-take at the sight of a third submarine and nine _Fletcher_ -class destroyers inbound to the docks and realized life at the naval base had just gotten a helluva lot more chaotic.

* * *

Saratoga strode into the auditorium with a purpose, armed with a flash drive and a wallet full of cash. It was time for Phase One of her plan. _Nobody messes with the ice cream budget_ , she thought darkly as she headed up to the auditorium's projection booth. She knew that with such a large venue that the speaker would be using audio/visual aids, and what better way to surprise him than to change things up a bit?

She knocked on the door to the projection booth. A seductive smile, a display of puppy eyes, and $500 later and the young Communications Specialist 2nd Class manning the booth was putty in her hands. She grinned. _This was easier than I thought. Now let's see what music fits him…_

* * *

Captain Slade Ramsey glanced up at the Ensign who'd come to fetch him.

"Sir? They're ready for you."

Ramsey nodded. "Thank you, Ensign…I'm sure the audience will benefit from this presentation."

He waited in the wings as the preliminary remarks were made to a packed house, then once his name was called, he straightened his winter blues coat and prepared to walk onstage to the tune of _Anchors Aweigh_. Instead, he found the audience snickering and some people outright laughing as he strode onstage to the theme from _Tiny Toon Adventures_.

He strode up to the man who introduced him and smiled, shaking the man's hand while inwardly swearing to find whoever was manning the audio/visual booth and tear off whatever rank said person had.

The presentation didn't go at all like he'd planned, either; his hold over the audience had been broken before it even began, and by the end of the hour it was clear only certain personnel had been paying complete attention. He sighed and watched his audience file out the doors, noting that most of them seemed eager to leave.

 _Such opportunities wasted. Ah, well…better luck next time._

"Interesting lecture, Captain."

Ramsey glanced up to see Saratoga standing in front of the stage, grinning impishly at him. Suddenly, the mix-up with his introductory music made perfect sense.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he growled, and the gorgeous fleet carrier giggled.

"You need to learn how to lighten up, sir," she replied.

"Lighten up?" Ramsey echoed, brought up short by Saratoga's statement. "You willfully played a prank on an officer of higher rank, Commander…that's an Article 134 according to the UCMJ, and I will personally see you charged with it."

Saratoga rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious."

Ramsey nodded. "I'm afraid so…I don't take kindly to pranks."

"Better get used to them," Saratoga shot back. "See, you're lucky you just have to deal with me…there were others, others much more resourceful than I, who wanted to declare war on you, but I stopped them. I told them I must deal with you alone." She giggled. "And that's just what I plan to do." She made for the door, but then turned back to face Ramsey. "And don't bother with the whole Article One-Two-Three –"

"That's Article 134," Ramsey clarified.

"Well, whatever number it is, I wouldn't bother filing it," Saratoga replied. "Any JAG lawyer would look at the case particulars and laugh his ass off before getting pissed at you for wasting his time. And it wouldn't do your career any good, either…filing meaningless charges against a highly-decorated aircraft carrier, one that your great-great grandfather commanded, no less." She grinned at Ramsey's look of surprise. "Yes, I know about our little connection; that's why I've taken a special… _interest_ in you." She reached the doors and grinned. "Until next time, Captain!" She waved cheekily and left the auditorium.

Ramsey watched her go and groaned inwardly. He'd read some of Fleet Admiral Robertson's reports on the chaos that kanmusu seemed to generate and could only dread what might happen now that one of them seemed fixated on him.

 _This might very well pose a problem in the long run…_

* * *

Ashlie and Chelsea sat in their U.S. History class at Old Dominion University. They had been studying World War II for the past month, and now that the two were dating shipboys who'd served in that conflict, their professor's lectures took on a whole new meaning. They'd mentioned to him that they knew some shipboys who would be willing to come speak to the class, and had given him Dyson's cell number, but thus far nothing had come of it.

"Class, I am pleased to announce we have a couple of special guests today," Professor Lawrence stated. "As I'm sure most of you know, the United States Navy gained some shipboys and girls of their own during the fight against the Abyssals. Two of these shipboys have agreed to come talk with us today. Without further ado, allow me to introduce Claxton and Dyson."

The classroom door opened and the two shipboys strolled in. Ashlie and Chelsea's eyes widened at their first glimpse of their boyfriends. In the two months they'd known them, the two destroyers had never worn anything other than street clothes, such as jeans and shorts paired with t-shirts from Hot Topic. Seeing them dressed in U.S. Navy winter blues with all awards on full display and gold officer's stripes on their sleeves – Commander for Claxton and Captain for Dyson – caused all sorts of…interesting thoughts to run through their minds. Ashlie muffled a giggle as Chelsea shifted in her seat, then suppressed a territorial growl as she noticed quite a few other girls in the room looking at the two shipboys like they were something to eat.

Professor Lawrence was also taken by surprise…he hadn't expected the pair to show up in uniform.

"Welcome, gentlemen."

The two destroyers glanced around as if looking for something then turned back to him as if only just realizing something.

"Oh, you mean us!" Claxton stated, getting snickers from the class. "Thanks," he acknowledged Lawrence's welcome before turning to the class. "Yeah, like the Professor said, my brother and I are shipboys. I'm U.S.S. Claxton, DD-571, and this is my brother U.S.S. Dyson, DD-572. We were both built at the same shipyard, Consolidated Steel in Orange, Texas, and laid down on the same date, 25 June 1941."

"Clax was launched on 1 April 1942, and I followed on the 15th of the same month," Dyson continued. "He entered service on 8 December and I was commissioned on 30 December." He paused and then added, "If any of you have a question about anything, just raise your hand and we'll try and answer it…sound good?"

"Can you tell us a little about your wartime service?" Lawrence asked.

"Well, I started the war patrolling in Casco Bay, Maine in case the German battleship _Tirpitz_ decided she wanted to come out and play in the Atlantic," Claxton stated, the shrugged. "When she stayed in Norway, I escorted a convoy to Casablanca in North Africa – that was in March-April 1943 – and then headed for the Pacific."

"I did escort and screening duty along the East Coast and briefly in the Caribbean before I headed for the Pacific about the same time as Clax," Dyson put in.

"What was the first major battle you were involved in?"

"That was the Battle of Empress Augusta Bay on the night of 1-2 November 1943," Dyson replied. "We helped sink a Japanese destroyer."

A student raised his hand, and Claxton nodded at him to ask.

"A lot of Japanese ships have returned as shipgirls," the young man stated. "Was the destroyer you sank one of them?"

"Hatsukaze? Yeah, she's one of Japan's many shipgirls," Dyson confirmed. "So is the light cruiser sunk in that battle, Sendai." He shrugged. "We didn't talk with them much, but they knew we were on base."

"Our next major fight was the Battle of Cape St. George, on 24-25 November," Claxton continued. "Historians have later described it as 'a near-perfect action'. We sank three Japanese destroyers that night." He grinned. "Our brother Spence likes to say we beat those three ships – Yugiri, Makinami, and Onami – so badly they're too scared to come back as shipgirls." As the class laughed, he ended with, "our Squadron got a Presidential Unit Citation out of it, though."

"Did you ever fight _kamikaze_ s?" Another student asked.

Both destroyers nodded. "Clax actually got near-missed by one in November 1944," Dyson informed them.

"Blew a nine-by-five hole in my side," Claxton put in. "Hurt like a bitch, too," he added, his phrasing causing more laughter from the class. "Killed five of my guys and wounded twenty-three more," he trailed off, remembering the cost, then shook his head. "Anyways, we both survived the war and were decommissioned in April 1946 and March 1947, respectively."

"Then we both saw service with West Germany from December 1959 until February 1982," Dyson finished. "We ended our ship lives in Greece where we were both eventually cannibalized for spare parts. We were summoned about two and a half years ago and fought in the Atlantic Abyssal War until it ended, and from that point on our days have consisted of hanging out and being awesome twenty-five-eight-three-sixty-six."

"What do you enjoy most about your new lives?" a girl asked.

"Getting to experience for ourselves all the things we heard our crewmembers talk about over the years," Claxton replied. "Eating all sorts of food…driving cars…playing sports…goofing off –"

"Having sex?" A blonde sorority-type interjected from the front row, thrusting her considerable bust out and batting her eyes playfully. A couple girls on either side of her – fellow sorority sisters, from the looks of the group – followed her example in flirting with the two destroyers.

Several students laughed, and the destroyers saw Ashlie and Chelsea giving the girls territorial looks from their seats several rows further back.

"No comment there," Dyson grinned. "But I will tell you that nearly all of our squadron – myself and Clax included – are currently involved with significant others."

"Speaking of myself and Dys," Claxton put in, noticing several girls looking disappointed after his brother's statement on relationships, "our respective significant others are sitting in this very classroom, and you have them to thank for us coming to talk with you today."

A few minutes later, Professor Lawrence ended the class by thanking the two destroyers for coming and reminding his students about reading ahead for the next class. As the lecture hall emptied out, Claxton and Dyson stuck around, waiting for Ashlie and Chelsea to make their way down to the front. However, they were almost immediately accosted by the three girls from earlier.

"Hi!" the blonde who'd interjected the question about sex introduced herself. "I'm Jamie, and these are my friends Annie and Kylie! We're from Delta Zeta!"

"Um, ok…" Claxton raised an eyebrow. "I'm Commander Claxton Fletcher, and this is my brother, Captain Dyson Fletcher. We're from Earth…welcome to our planet."

Dyson snickered, and his grinned widened when he saw Ashlie and Chelsea had also heard the reply and had found it quite funny as well. The sorority trio, however, apparently didn't get it at all, for they all looked confused.

"Anyway," Jamie shook her head as if to clear it, "we were wondering if we could show you around campus. The girls of Delta Zeta are always willing to help out our country's servicemen."

"In _any_ way they need," Kylie grinned suggestively, causing all three girls to giggle.

"No thanks," Dyson replied. "We're just waiting for our girlfriends."

Ashlie and Chelsea chose that moment to walk over, and the two destroyers greeted their respective significant others with kisses on the cheek. The Sorority Trio – as Dyson had dubbed them in his mind – looked surprised, as though they couldn't believe the two destroyers would rather be with Ashlie and Chelsea.

"Well, there's a party at the Delta Zeta house tonight," Jamie stated. "Maybe you and your brothers could make that?"

"No can do," Claxton replied. "Tonight's _Star Wars: Battlefront II_ marathon night. No way any of us are missing that."

"Oh, I like _Star Wars!_ " Annie piped up.

"Me, too!" Kylie put in. "That Chris Pine guy who played Captain Kirk is really hot!"

The two destroyers cringed. "Gotta go," Claxton gave the Sorority Trio a big fake smile and walked off after looping Ashlie's arm through his. Dyson and Chelsea followed right behind them.

"Jeez, I'm glad Stanly wasn't here to hear that," Claxton muttered. "He'd freak at what she just said."

"Yeah," Dyson agreed. "No mixing _Wars_ and _Trek_ around him…it just isn't done."

"Somehow I don't think she knew the difference," Ashlie put in, before turning to her boyfriend. "Also, is that seriously what you two have planned for the evening? A video game marathon?"

"Actually, no," Claxton replied. "We're filming a commercial this weekend for a new business we're going to be starting up and wanted to know if the two of you wanted to help out."

"What are you guys up to now?" Chelsea looked askance at her boyfriend.

"See, here's the deal…" Conversation continued as the foursome headed out of the lecture hall.

* * *

"Charlie, where are we?" Hayden asked as she tried to peek under the blindfold her friend had placed over her eyes. All she knew was after she'd been blindfolded, he'd picked her up bridal-carry style and they'd apparently gone out on the water. She'd pouted initially, as she really wanted to see what it was like speeding along like Charlie and his brothers did. Then they'd apparently gone back onto solid ground again, for Charlie had set her down in a cushioned chair and told her not to move or take off the blindfold.

"One sec more, Hayden," Charlie stated, and she was surprised to hear the what sounded like the clinking of silverware. "OK, you can take off the blindfold now."

Hayden reached up and took off the blindfold and gasped in surprise when she saw her surroundings. She was sitting in a chair on the deck of a destroyer, two five-inch single gun mounts providing a unique backdrop to what appeared to be a candlelight dinner at sea. Glancing around, she noticed they seemed to be a good distance off the coast, as there were only faint lights visible from shore; the main illumination came from the two candles on the table and a massive curtain of stars overhead.

"What is all this?" she asked, mentally awarding the destroyer considerable brownie points for doing all of this.

"This is my hull form," Charlie replied. "S-13 figured out how to summon her hull form, she told Espada, and then he told all of us." He glanced around. "Welcome to me during World War II."

"Why'd you do all of this?" Hayden wondered as Charlie served up a takeout dinner from her favorite Italian restaurant.

The destroyer looked nervous. "I wanted to impress you," he replied. "In the hopes that, maybe you'd…considerbeingmygirlfriend?" he rushed the last part out.

Hayden suppressed a smile, finding his nervousness adorable. And the fact he went through all this trouble, just so he could ask her to be his girlfriend, was incredibly sweet.

"What was that last part again?" she asked innocently, a teasing gleam in her eyes.

Charlie sighed and took a deep breath to calm himself before repeating the question. "I wanted to impress you…in the hopes that, maybe you'd consider being my girlfriend?"

Hayden forced a thoughtful expression on her face, though inside she was jumping for joy. Charlie was a sweet guy who treated her great; she'd be a fool not to snatch him up. Therefore, there was only one answer she could give.

Charlie was looking at Hayden nervously when she smiled at him sweetly and reached across the table, grasping his hand. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Charlie," she replied.

The Fletcher-class destroyer grinned and squeezed her hand, both parties feeling as if they'd taken a major step in the right direction.

* * *

Blaskewicz relaxed on the couch as he read over various supply reports and idly ran his fingers through his wife's hair. Tenryu was using his right leg as a pillow while she read her well-worn copy of _The Book of Five Rings_ by Miyamoto Musashi. The couple glanced up as they heard the front door open and close, and a few moments later, Gavin walked in looking tired.

"Hey, Gavin…long day for you," Tenryu smiled at her adopted son.

Gavin nodded. "Gonna be just as long tomorrow, probably…lot of refits to plan out."

Further conversation was interrupted by DesDiv 6 coming out of the kitchen with a large bowl of freshly-microwaved popcorn. Both Tenryu and Blaskewicz noticed Gavin becoming very uncomfortable as the four destroyers entered the room.

"Hi, Gavin-san!" Ikazuchi smiled mischievously at him. "Want some popcorn?"

"We're having a movie night in our room, nanodesu," Inazuma stated. "You're welcome to join us if you want."

"Not tonight, Inazuma-chan," Gavin begged off. "All I wanna do right now is sleep."

"Maybe next time, Gavin-san?" Hibiki gazed up at him, tossing a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

Gavin wasn't lying when he said he was tired, but he was also holding onto his sanity by a thread. It had gotten to where being around the girls – especially a certain snowy-haired member – was becoming too much, and the innocent way Hibiki was looking at him right now was about to put him over the edge.

"Y-yeah, sure, Hibiki-chan…next time," Gavin confirmed. "Night, everyone." He disappeared into his room without waiting for a response.

The destroyers headed back to their room, but neither Blaskewicz nor Tenryu missed the troubled look in Hibiki's eyes. Blaskewicz noticed Tenryu's worried expression and resolved – like the good husband he was – to get to the bottom of this matter the following day.

* * *

Robertson shook his head as he glanced over the Requests for Leave. DesRon 23, plus Trigger, Espada, and – curiously enough – S-13 and Tashkent had all put in for leave at the same time, submitting a letter with the requests stating that the time off would be used for 'team building'. Robertson highly doubted that but was still loath to let the entire group off duty at one time; the chaos potential was staggering.

He was still weighing the pros and cons when a familiar voice sounded from the nearby television, causing him as well as Arizona, Nevada, and Oklahoma to all glance up nervously.

" _Hi, everybody!"_ Hank Azaria's Dr. Nick Riviera called out cheerfully.

" _Hi, Dr. Nick!"_ an audience responded.

The television showed a woman – one who looked remarkably like the woman Aulick was dating – looking at a broken pipe under her kitchen sink. _"Wish you had a man around the house to handle a crisis?"_ Dr. Nick asked. The screen shifted to show a woman who looked like Stanly's girlfriend sitting on a couch playing with her phone. The word 'bored' appeared over her head, along with an arrow pointing at her. _"Don't need a man and you just want a crisis? Then call the Crisis Hotline today!"_

The three battleships looked over at him in concern as Robertson braced himself for impending doom.

On screen, a white panel van pulled up in front of a house, and Spence, Foote, and Trigger got out and assumed superhero poses on the front lawn.

" _Our highly-trained team of specialists will gladly come to your home and cause as much chaos as you desire until your mind is running around in circles biting itself in the small of the back, and your hair is falling out in clumps!"_ Dr. Nick cheerfully announced. _"Insanity guaranteed!"_

The screen shifted to show a random woman sitting in a corner rocking back and forth with a vacant stare while Foote swung from a chandelier like a monkey, Claxton and Dyson had a Nerf gun war with what looked like mini-guns, and Spence, Trigger, and Espada tossed what appeared to be water balloons filled with paint at each other.

" _If you're not carted away by the nice men in white coats,"_ Dr. Nick promised, _"we didn't do our job!"_

The screen changed to show the same woman who'd been previously rocking back and forth being escorted out of her house in a straitjacket, babbling insanely, while DesRon 23 and the two submarines watched, then another shot of the entire group waving enthusiastically as the paddy wagon pulled away.

" _Call 1-800-256-7348 today!_ " Dr. Nick encouraged. _"That's 1-800-2LOSEIT! Operators are standing by!"_ Another announcer came on at the very end of the commercial and stated quickly, _"Proud supporter of the United States Navy and the World Kanmusu Fleet."_

The three battleships watched their admiral for any sign of an impending meltdown. However, Robertson merely glanced down at his desk and signed all thirteen of the leave requests before filling another out for Keely and signing that one as well.

"You're approving their leave, sir?" Arizona's voice betrayed her surprise. "After what we just saw?"

"Certainly," Robertson replied. "After all, if they leave for a brief period of time, perhaps my urge to strangle them will dissipate." He handed Oklahoma the signed paperwork. "Get these to them and get them out of here…at this point, I don't even care where they go, just so long as it's nowhere I can find them." He turned to Nevada. "And get that commercial pulled from airing. _Now._ "

The shipgirls hastened to do his bidding, knowing it was wise not to trifle with their Admiral right then.

* * *

At the first soft creak of the door, Keely drifted into that twilight zone between sleep and consciousness. Her eyes slowly opened, only for her to let out a startled shriek and completely awaken in about five seconds after seeing Spence standing beside her bed with his arms outstretched, fingers wiggling as though he was about to start a massive tickle attack.

"What the hell?!" she yelped, not used to being awakened in that manner.

"Mornin'!" the destroyer grinned.

"How'd you get in here?!" the Chief Petty Officer growled, running a hand through her hair groggily. "And more importantly, _why_ are you in here at –" she did a quick check of the time on her phone, only to do a double-take when she saw what time it was, "ZERO FOUR HUNDRED HOURS?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"

"I picked your lock, that's how I got in here," Spence replied. "As to _why_ I'm in here…c'mon, get up and get dressed, Chief…it's go time!" He gave Keely a thumbs up before running out of her bedroom and then out of her suite, apparently leaving her suite door open, for the Chief heard him making enough noise going down the stairs to rival a herd of elephants, yelling to the rest of the house that she was awake and would be joining them shortly.

Keely sighed and made a short-term plan, just like any good NCO would.

"I'll go downstairs and see what's up, then I'll murder him for waking me this early," she told herself, nodding as she got out of bed and headed to her dresser.

She headed into the kitchen upon arriving downstairs, seeing everyone else in the house gathered there. The destroyers and submarines were all chowing down on huge bowls of cereal, while the females in the house – apparently every significant other had stayed over the previous night – were sipping on coffee or Mountain Dew.

"There she is!" Foote called out cheerfully. "Mornin', sleepyhead!"

Keely glowered at him in response and turned to Spence. "One of the perks of this assignment was the fact I got to sleep in until 0730 every morning. It's currently three-and-a-half hours before I'm required to normally function, so unless you have a _damn_ good reason as to why you broke into my suite and woke me up, I'm going to kick you in parts I'm pretty sure you like using and then go back to bed."

"Coffee?" Converse offered Keely an extra-large travel mug filled to the brim with what appeared to be Black Blood of the Earth coffee. The Chief smiled wanly at him and took a large sip.

"I'm waiting," she returned her attention to Spence.

"I woke you up because our flight leaves in thirty minutes," Spence replied.

"What flight?" Keely inquired, then glanced at the destroyers' breakfast. "The hell are you guys eating?"

"Only the most epically-awesome cereal ever made!" Foote replied, and he, Spence, Trigger, and Thatcher all sang, "DOUBLE CHOCOLATE TRIPLE-FROSTED VANILLA SUGAR SQUIDGIES!"

Keely reached over and grabbed the bulk-sized box off the kitchen island and scanned the nutritional information. What she saw there caused her to pale.

"There's enough caffeine in this to equal a freaking _gallon_ of those Five-Hour Energy drinks!"

"Pretty cool, huh?" Spence grinned before he loudly sang the jingle once more.

"Yeah, _that's_ not gonna get annoying really quick," Keely muttered, only to cringe when Spence belted the jingle out yet again. "You know what? I was wrong!"

Thatcher finished his cereal and Keely cringed as he gulped down the remaining milk, which had taken on the consistency of chocolate sugary sludge. He then let out a large, cabinet-rattling belch.

"God, I love the twenty-first century," he muttered.

Trigger, Spence, and Foote answered with their own belches, while Keely noted that while those of the squadron that had significant others laughed at their brothers' antics, none of them joined in the impromptu contest.

 _Perhaps there's hope for some of them yet_ , she mused. Her musings were broken by Spence as he dried his cereal bowl and put it away.

"Finish up, bros," he stated. "The airport van's gonna be here soon."

As if to answer his statement, a horn blared in the driveway outside.

"That's our ride!" Foote stated. "Let's head out…we gotta stop at the base first before we head to the plane."

Keely grabbed her travel mug as she was herded to the door with the rest of the group, thankful she'd secured her suite and grabbed her purse before coming downstairs. As Spence and Foote locked up the house, she couldn't help but get a sense of foreboding and prayed that whatever this little jaunt was wouldn't come back to bite them all in the ass.

* * *

A few hours later, Keely sighed as she glanced around the cabin of the private jet. After that commercial had aired, she was afraid the destroyers would be thrown in the brig and she'd be introducing herself as Seaman Burton again. However, judging by how quickly the leave requests had been signed, Fleet Admiral Robertson apparently had no problems consenting to the entire group taking leave for the weekend.

 _Either that or he just wants these guys out of his hair while he cools down_ , the Chief Petty Officer thought darkly.

"Mile High Club!" Foote yelled, flopping down in one of the plush seats.

"Dude, how're _you_ gonna join that club?" Converse laughed. "With yourself? You aren't even bringing a girlfriend with you!"

Foote flipped his brother the bird while the rest of the destroyers laughed.

"I'm just glad all our significant others were able to join us," Aulick stated, pulling Jenni down to sit on his lap and kissing her cheek. "It wouldn't be the same without them."

"You still haven't told us where we're going," Jenni reminded him playfully.

"And I'm not _gonna_ tell you," Aulick replied. "I told you it's a surprise."

Jenni huffed in response and snuggled against him. "You're no fun," she pouted cutely.

"Will you tell me, Charlie?" Hayden looked at her boyfriend with DesDiv 6-level puppy eyes.

"Sorry, sweetie," Charlie replied. "All I'll say is I guarantee you're going to like it."

"Are we going to Disneyland?" Ashlie piped up from where she and Chelsea were sitting with Claxton and Dyson.

"No, not Disneyland…that much we _will_ tell you," Claxton informed everyone.

"What I don't understand is why you pulled down all the window shades and didn't let us pack hardly anything," Maya put in. "Don't get me wrong, I'm used to flying places with no luggage, but it's usually to blow something up or turn it into Swiss cheese, not a weekend getaway with my boyfriend."

"Well we drew the window shades down because if you saw where we were going as we were making our final landing approach, you'd automatically know where we were," Stanly replied.

"And we didn't let you pack anything but the bare essentials because we're treating you to a shopping spree while we're there," Spence added. "Sounds like fun, right, Tash?" he called to the back of the plane where the Russian destroyer in question slouched in a seat, glowering at the window shade. Upon hearing her name, Tashkent – who'd been kidnapped out of her dorm room kicking and screaming at 0530 and loaded into the airport van snarling phrases in Russian that everyone else on the plane was sure wouldn't be kind words when translated into English – merely turned, gave Spence a look of death while muttering something else in Russian, and resumed staring at the window shade again.

"Something tells me she doesn't agree, dude," Converse stated.

 _You think?_ Keely thought, wondering when the flight was going to be over. _This bunch cooped up on a plane for an extended period of time is never a good idea…I remember some of the things Fleet Admiral Robertson told me they did on the flight over from Japan. We better not have a repeat here –_

A _ding_ over the plane's intercom interrupted her thoughts and halted any further conversation.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking,_ " the intercom announced. _"We are currently on final approach to our destination. The local time is 7:42 AM, and the temperature is a warm 83 degrees."_

"Eighty-three degrees and it's not even 0800?" Maya asked aloud before turning to Stanly. "Where are we, babe?"

Her question was answered by the pilot ending his announcement with, " _Welcome to beautiful Las Vegas._ "

The destroyers and submarines – save one – cheered, and even Tashkent looked up in surprise. The humans – save one – squealed in excitement. Keely was the lone dissenter. As soon as the pilot announced their destination, her gaze whipped toward the cockpit door with an expression of impending doom.

"Vegas?" she murmured softly before speaking louder. "Vegas?" She turned to her charges, who were grinning widely. "YOU BROUGHT US TO LAS VEGAS?!"

"Yep!" Spence grinned. "Pretty darn cool, huh?"

"ARE YOU INSANE?!" Keely shrieked. "This group gets into enough trouble without adding Sin City into the mix! There's no telling what you might do in a casino!"

"Break the bank, hopefully," Thatcher muttered, causing Espada to yell, " _Now_ you're talkin', homes!" from where he was sitting with Alexandra, who giggled.

Keely glanced around frantically, realizing that she'd unwittingly allowed her charges to fly across the country to the one city where they could go crazy without a care in the world, and there was no way to stop them from experiencing pretty much all Las Vegas had to offer those who had near-bottomless pocketbooks. She collapsed back into her seat and whimpered forlornly.

"I think we broke her, dudes," Spence looked at their minder in concern. Keely shook her head.

"No, you didn't," she replied. "I'm giving up."

"Huh?" Foote inquired.

"I'm giving up," Keely stated, shrugging. "Fuck it…you guys paid for a private jet to fly all of us to Vegas, probably got us all five-star hotel rooms –"

"The penthouse plus six executive suites at the Bellagio," Spence interjected.

"Of course," Keely shot back sarcastically, "and you're probably going to gamble your asses off and drink like fishes."

"Gambling's definitely on the list," Dyson confirmed. "As for drinking…eh. I'd kinda like to remember my time in Vegas."

"Anyways!" Keely brought them back to the conversation, "I've given up for the weekend. Do whatever you guys want…I'm not gonna bail you out, I'm not taking the fall, nothing. You all are on your own…and that includes answering to Fleet Admiral Robertson for any repercussions."

The raucous cheers that her charges sent up told her that that might not have been the best decision she ever made.

* * *

 **UP NEXT:** Chaos in Vegas! Foote and Thatcher have their own adventures! The group honors a departed veteran! And a shocking turn of events concerning one of the destroyers that surprises everyone!

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	8. Desert Chaos

**DISCLAIMER:** See Chapter One.  


Apologies for not getting this out sooner...life gets in the way.

Thanks to **AyameKitsune** , **A.D. Fields** , **Shade1332** , **KINGTIGERACE** , **Corporal Tommy** , **ThatDrocker59** , **Danny79** , **Tekketsu1220** , **Glacium Frost** , **Idealistic Pyro** , and **Pyeknu** for reviewing Chapter Seven!

* * *

 **Chapter Eight – Desert Chaos**

Stanly relaxed on the bed in his hotel suite as he watched Maya unpack the few items she'd brought with her. He was glad she'd been able to get away for the weekend, otherwise he probably wouldn't have come. He brought out the envelope he was planning to give to her and tapped it against the palm of his hand, getting lost in thought.

"What's that?" Maya's voice brought him back to reality. The Air Force Captain had flopped down on the bed beside him and Stanly couldn't help pulling her into his arms to cuddle. _God, I love the way she feels in my arms_ , he thought.

"This?" He waved the envelope and Maya nodded. "Just something I thought you might wanna do while we're here. It starts tomorrow," he added, handing her the envelope.

Maya sat up and opened it, taking out two tickets. She read one and gasped.

"You got us tickets to TrekCon Vegas?!" She started bouncing up and down in excitement at the thought of attending one of the largest _Star Trek_ conventions in the United States.

"No, more like Executive Premium All-Access Passes," Stanly replied. "When the convention organizers found out who was asking for tickets, they were more than happy to give me those. We not only get autographs of everyone attending, but I also managed to finagle something else for tomorrow morning."

"What's that?" Maya was almost afraid to ask.

Stanly grinned. "We've gotta get up early tomorrow because we're having a private breakfast with a special guest."

"Who?" Maya demanded. When Stanly made like he wasn't going to tell her, she bounced on the bed some more, shoving his arm. "Tell me or I'll tickle it out of you!"

Stanly grinned. "That could be interesting later." Maya smacked him lightly, but the grin on her face said she was going to hold him to that.

"Seriously, though…who are we having breakfast with tomorrow?"

"William Shatner."

The kiss Stanly got after that revelation nearly caused his boilers to redline. He was about to return the favor when Maya broke away and jumped off the bed.

"Come on…we need to get costumes for tomorrow!"

Stanly was about to protest when he realized what she was saying. "Crap, you're right! We can't go to a _Star Trek_ convention and not be in costume! Let's go!"

* * *

Thatcher strolled along the sidewalk, idly doing some window shopping as he walked. After the guys had returned to the hotel after making a special trip out to a local cemetery to pay honors to the late Richard 'Old Man' Harrison of _Pawn Stars_ fame, most of them had been shanghaied by the girls into being bag-holders on a major shopping spree. Only he and Foote had managed to escape the trap, and now Foote had gone off on his own adventure, leaving Thatcher to his own devices.

 _Tremble, Las Vegas!_ The destroyer laughed inwardly. _I am unsupervised and lookin' for trouble!_

He walked past a group of benches that was set up in front of the Bellagio to watch the fountains, noticing a girl sitting there holding a backpack that looked full to bursting. She was gazing out at the water, but something in her eyes told the destroyer she was deep in thought and wasn't concentrating on the fountains.

Thatcher also noticed a young man watching the girl. Every so often, he would glance around to make sure no one was watching him, then sneak closer to her.

 _Oh, hell no_ , the destroyer thought, a mischievous grin coming over his face as a plan to stop the impending robbery came into his head. He continued to watch the guy easing closer and closer to his target, all the while positioning himself to be in the way of the guy's most-likely avenue of escape.

Sure enough, the guy got close enough and made his move, darting in, grabbing the girl's backpack and running off like the hounds of hell were chasing after him.

"Hey! Give that back, asshole!" the girl yelled, leaping up and running after him. Sadly, she was by no means as fast, so the guy had quite a head start on her. Thatcher grinned as the guy headed right for him. He was just about to zip by when the destroyer stuck his right forearm out and activated his ship weight.

The guy ran headlong into Thatcher's arm, and with the destroyer's ship weight activated the collision was more like running face-first into one of his five-inch gun barrels. The result was the would-be criminal crowning himself good and collapsing to the ground like a ton of bricks.

"Clothesline from Hell!" Thatcher yelled, imitating Jim Ross as those around him who'd seen what happened applauded him stopping the robber. He grabbed the girl's backpack out of the robber's now-limp grasp and hoisted it in his hand, walking over to the girl and extending it to her.

"I believe this is yours," he stated.

"Oh, mah God…thank you!" the girl exclaimed, hugging the destroyer tightly. Thatcher forced himself not to think of how well her body fit against his. The girl then knelt and felt around the backpack, making sure no zippers were open and that nothing had fallen out as the robber had run off, and smiled in relief. "Everything's here."

Thatcher forced back a groan as he noticed the girl's voice take on a slight Southern twang every now and then. For some reason, he'd come to have a thing for Southern girls.

"No problem," he grinned. "Always willing to help out a lady." _Score!_ He thought as the girl flushed in embarrassment. He held out his hand. "U.S.S. Thatcher, DD five-one-four, Fletcher-class destroyer."

The girl looked surprised for a moment, as if wondering why a ship-boy was all the way out in landlocked Las Vegas, before shaking her head and grasping his hand. "Fallyn Rourke," she stated.

Thatcher noticed a couple police officers making their way over to them through the now-considerable crowd of people and figured the spark he'd felt when their hands connected was going to have to wait.

"Listen, how about we go tell the cops what happened, and once we give our statements, we go get something to eat? My treat," he added when he saw Fallyn look torn, as though wondering if she could afford it.

"O-ok," his new friend murmured.

"Great…let's go make sure the Clark County lockup has yet another new tenant," Thatcher grinned.

He bit back another groan upon hearing Fallyn's cute giggle. _I think I just might be in trouble here…_

* * *

Foote looked at his phone and then glanced up at the building he was standing in front of. _Sin City Ink…guess this is the place_ , he thought as he opened the door and walked in.

Endless drawings of tattoos covered the walls of the shop, along with advertisements showcasing the different services the shop offered. The man sitting on a stool behind the counter glanced up as the destroyer entered. He was reed-thin, completely bald, and sported a goatee. He wore a white muscle shirt to show off his completely inked-up arms and gazed at Foote belligerently.

"You even old enough to be in here?"

Foote smirked. "You could say I've seen some action." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the paper he'd had one of his fairies sign earlier. "Here's proof if you need it."

The man took the piece of paper and read.

 _This is to certify that the bearer of this document, Foote Fletcher, is of legal age and is therefore permitted to patronize your establishment._

 _(Signed)_

 _A. Ramsey  
RADM, U.S.N. _

The man scoffed derisively as he handed the paper back to Foote.

"Fine, whatever…let's see some ID."

Foote readily handed over his military ID, which resulted in another scoff:

 **UNITED STATES NAVY SHIP-PERSON FLEET  
OFFICIAL MILITARY IDENTIFICATION**

 **NAME: FOOTE  
TYPE: FLETCHER-CLASS DESTROYER (DD-511)  
RANK: LT  
GRADE: O-3**

The man handed Foote's ID back to him. "Not the worst attempt I've seen, but definitely one of the more creative ones." He shook his head. "Whatever…just sign this saying my shop is absolved from any blame if you catch shit from your parents." He smirked cruelly. "Means the cops can't come after me if they get pissed, so everything'll be on you."

Foote shrugged, taking the paper and scrawling his signature; if the guy couldn't tell from his official military ID that Foote was a destroyer and didn't even _have_ parents, then he was blind as a bat.

"Room five," the guy stated before yelling to the back. "Hey Samuels! You got here late, so you can take the potentially illegal client! And if the cops come here looking to cause trouble, it's _your_ ass that'll get thrown under the bus!"

 _Must be a joy working here_ , Foote thought as he headed back to room five. Once there, he sat down in the chair and waited. A few minutes later, a stressed-out young woman walked in, muttering darkly to herself. Foote had to admit, he liked what he saw: average height, dark brown hair in a tomboy cut, leather jacket, tight jeans, and combat boots.

The girl gave him a harried smile as she shrugged off the leather jacket, revealing a black denim vest with metal studs all over the shoulders that bared arms whose pale skin were almost completely covered by ink all the way down to the backs of her hands. A large, intricate flower covered the lower center of her throat, extending partially down her chest, below which appeared to be scripted words, most of which were hidden by her vest.

In short, she was the hottest woman the destroyer had seen in his life.

"You're wanting a tattoo?" she asked. When Foote nodded dazedly, she smirked. "Good…if you wanted Chinese food, you're in the wrong place. That's three shops down."

Foote snickered. "Good to know."

"Do you have any ideas, or did you want to see some books?"

Foote reached into his pocket and pulled out a drawing one of his crewmen had done back in the war. It showed a sailor leaning over from his ship self and kissing the Statue of Liberty on the cheek as she blushed in embarrassment. "I'd like this."

The girl looked at the drawing. "Nice…looks like one of those old cartoon drawings from the forties." She nodded. "You have good taste."

 _I bet you taste even better_ , Foote thought, wisely choosing to remain silent.

"Cory Samuels," the girl extended her hand.

"Foote," the destroyer responded, shaking it.

"Is that your first name or your last name?" Cory asked.

"It's my _only_ name," Foote replied. "Is 'Cory' short for something?"

"Yeah, but very few people know what it stands for. Don't tell me you're one of those people with only one name, like Adele," Cory looked at him askance as she plugged her iPod into a charging station on the counter. She pressed 'Play', and the opening strains of Ozzy Osbourne's _Bark at the Moon_ began playing.

"Who?" Foote asked blankly.

"She's some singer that had a big hit or something," Cory shrugged dismissively.

"Oh," Foote replied. "Nah, I only have one name because of this." He showed her his military ID. "Excellent choice in music, by the way."

"Thanks," Cory checked his ID and nodded, impressed. "Nice…I've never inked a ship-person before." She looked uncertain. "Can I do your tattoo the same way as a regular person, or is there some sort of special way you have to have it done?"

Foote thought a moment and came up with a plan. "Let's try this: draw it out on that tracing paper you use and then press it into my skin. Then just fill in what needs filling in using a marker or something. Be just like painting my hull."

"Are you saying this because you're afraid of needles?" Cory teased.

Foote scoffed. "As if! I had a Jap torpedo blow my stern off in November of '43 and I survived that…if I can handle _that_ pain, a needle won't even register."

"A torpedo blew your ass off?" Cory joked. "Talk about a Hershey highway violation," she muttered under her breath, but it was loud enough for the destroyer to overhear.

"Nice!" Foote burst out laughing. "Oh, and thanks for actually believing my ID was authentic, instead of being like your boss and thinking it's just a creative fake."

At the mention of her boss, Cory rolled her eyes. "Nobody ever said Tim was the brightest bulb in the box."

"Why not look for something somewhere else? I mean, there's gotta be other tattoo shops in Vegas," Foote asked.

Cory nodded. "There's a ton of them…problem is, Tim knows almost every one of them, and since he's asked me out repeatedly and I've turned him down each time, he's fixed it so none of those other shops will even consider hiring me."

"You know that kind of shit's sexual harassment, right?" Foote asked her. "And you can get a lawyer and fight him on it?"

"Yeah, like I have extra money for an attorney," Cory scoffed, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter…I can handle it; I'm putting all my money towards opening my own shop someday and getting the hell out of here. Anyways," she effectively ended the conversation, "where'd you want that tattoo?"

Foote pulled off his Navy surplus dungaree shirt, revealing a sleeveless white muscle shirt, and offered his left arm to Cory. "Left bicep's okay," he replied.

Cory forced herself not to think about how fit her customer was. "Sounds good," she replied, and set to work tracing the tattoo onto the paper.

Ninety minutes later, Cory was putting the finishing touches on Foote's arm. Foote's idea had worked as requested, and while Cory felt weird about doing a tattoo without using needles, she also appreciated how much easier the method was.

"Wish all my appointments went this smoothly," she commented wryly as she sat back and worked out a kink in her neck. "A lot of guys would be flirting with me or trying to see down my shirt…nice to have someone that doesn't even try it."

"Meh," Foote shrugged. "I kinda figured you'd appreciate the change." He smirked. "Don't get me wrong, though, I definitely like what I see."

Cory smirked as she rubbed her neck. "Good to know."

"Here, turn around," Foote motioned for Cory to spin her stool around, which she did, giving him an uncertain look.

"You better have pants on when I turn back," she warned.

Foote laughed, "You know, my brothers and I heard our minder say something similar recently. Long story," he added when Cory looked back, surprised. "Relax," he instructed, and began massaging her shoulders. He honestly had good intentions for what he was doing, but when Cory started moaning softly as he worked out various knots, Foote's mind went in a whole other direction. To placate said thoughts, he started working in various massage techniques that he'd seen in…well, certain types of videos a single guy such as himself liked to watch in the privacy of his own home. He had to admit, he was quite pleased with himself when the beautiful brunette in front of him responded quite favorably to his subtle moves.

"How's that feel?" he asked, cautioning himself that leaning over and murmuring his question in Cory's ear would probably cause her to wise up.

"G-Good…" the tattoo artist murmured, before realizing she was at work and not in a place where she could enjoy the reaction she was having. At that moment, Foote hit a particularly big knot between her shoulders, and she groaned loudly.

"What the fuck are you doing in there, Samuels?" Tim yelled down the hall from the front of the shop. Cory's eyes widened as her employer's voice got louder before he suddenly threw the door open. His eyes went wild with rage at the sight of the kid putting his hands all over the person he wanted to be his woman.

"The fuck is going on in here?!" he yelled, turning to Foote angrily. "Are you putting your hands on my woman, you little punk?"

"Like hell I'd ever be your woman…I've got standards!" Cory snapped.

Tim's gaze whipped back to her. "Samuels, I'd shut that smart mouth of yours before it talks you right out of a job."

"Hey, she's allowed to have an opinion, asswipe!" Foote retorted.

"Kid, you know that old saying, 'The Customer Is Always Right'? Well, it doesn't apply in this shop." Tim's fist swung towards Foote's jaw, fully intent on taking him out. Had Foote been human, the impact of said fist might very well have caused serious injury. But Foote merely smiled and activated his ship-features, making it more like the idiot in question had decided to punch the side of one of Foote's five-inch gun turrets with all his might.

Cory cringed as she heard numerous painful crunches emanate from her employer's hand. Tim screamed bloody murder and collapsed to the floor clutching his wrist, kicking his feet like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.

Foote watched as Cory gathered a few things scattered around the room and threw them into a backpack that was sitting in a corner.

"C'mon…let's go," she growled. "By the way, Tim, I quit," she informed her now-sobbing ex-employer as she stalked out of the room, Foote following behind her. The pair were out the door and standing in front of the Chinese restaurant three doors down when it finally hit Cory as to what she'd just done.

"I just royally screwed myself," she groaned. "Wonder if this place needs a waitress."

"Nah, you didn't screw yourself…you _freed_ yourself," Foote informed her. "You might've been doing something you love, but that work environment was toxic and probably would've just gotten worse as time went on. You did yourself a favor by cutting your losses and getting out when you did before something bad happened."

Cory smirked. "It did feel good seeing Tim laying on the ground crying like a little bitch."

"My favorite part was when his hand folded up like an accordion," Foote grinned. "Forget being a tattoo artist…he'll be lucky to hold silverware in that hand from now on."

"He can forget switching off, too," Cory grinned, causing Foote to burst out laughing. He absolutely loved his new friend's filthy sense of humor.

"C'mon…let's eat and you can figure out the first step of the rest of your life."

* * *

Thatcher sat across from Fallyn in the booth at the Hard Rock Café. While his companion was glancing around at the various memorabilia on the walls, the destroyer was watching her. Fallyn was petite in stature – the top of her head barely came up to Thatcher's chest – with auburn hair just past her shoulders and beautiful green eyes. But those beautiful green eyes were troubled about something, and Thatcher – being a member of DesRon 23, who always helped American citizens in need, regardless of whether it caused extreme chaos – resolved to help her fix whatever problems she had.

"So," he began, "care to share?"

"Huh?" Fallyn looked confused.

"I'm just curious about what made you go on the run, is all," Thatcher replied, knowing he'd hit the nail on the head when Fallyn tensed. "Don't worry," he added, "I'm not gonna turn you in…I'd actually like to help you."

"W-what makes you think I'm on the run?"

"Well, for starters that backpack you're carrying," Thatcher indicated the bag in question that was currently sitting on the seat beside Fallyn, "seems to be holding all your earthly possessions. Secondly, you're watching the door like a hawk as if you expect someone to come in and snatch you up, and third, you have yet to pull out a phone of any kind, which leads me to believe you had one, but you ditched it somewhere."

Fallyn sighed, a guilty look coming over her face. "Phones can be tracked, and ah have to stay gone until tomorrow morning. That's my birthday and then he can't do anything."

"Who's 'he'?" Thatcher wondered.

"Mah stepfather," Fallyn replied. "He married mah Mama and we moved here from where ah grew up."

"Where's that?"

"Hot Springs, Arkansas."

"What's your stepfather do?"

"He's a Chief Warrant Officer Two in the Army. He's part of the security detail for Nellis Air Force Base…he got stationed there when the Air Force and the Army started doing some joint exchange program or somethin'."

"A Warrant Officer…figures," Thatcher muttered. "So many of 'em think that bar with the black buttons means they're big shit…I take it he's one of them?"

Fallyn nodded. "Ah remember going with Mama to take lunch to him on base…he walked by a couple enlisted just so they had to salute him…he said it was one of the highlights of his day."

"What an asshole," Thatcher growled. "Sorry," he amended, "I know he's your stepfather and I shouldn't say stuff like that –"

"No, ah agree with you," Fallyn nodded. "He and ah have never gotten along. And recently he's been…looking at me weird."

"How so?" Thatcher asked, having a sinking feeling he already knew.

"Like he doesn't see me as a stepdaughter anymore, more like…" Fallyn trailed off, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I get the picture," the destroyer muttered. "So, what's your plan?"

"Stay away from home until tomorrow. Then it'll be mah birthday and he won't be able to order me around anymore."

"Your birthday's tomorrow?"

"Yep…ah'll be eighteen."

"And once you're out of his clutches?" Thatcher inquired. "What then?"

Fallyn looked down guiltily. "Ah dunno…didn't actually think that far ahead."

Thatcher shrugged. "Meh, don't worry…you can make further plans once you're settled in."

"Settled in?"

The destroyer grinned. "You'll be eighteen tomorrow, right?" When Fallyn nodded, he continued, "Then you'll be free to do whatever you feel like within legal limits. And that includes moving out-of-state."

Fallyn blinked, too surprised to do much of anything else. When she finally found her voice, she stated, "Don't get me wrong, moving out-of-state would make it that much harder for that asshole to find me, but ah don't have any money…no money means no moving." She sighed. "To say nothing of being able to afford a plane ticket out of here."

"That's where your new friend, me," Thatcher pointed at himself and grinned, earning a small smile from the girl across from him, "comes in. My brothers and I flew here on a private jet…I don't think they'd mind a bit if you hitched a ride."

"That's great, but what am ah gonna do when ah get to wherever you guys live? Where will ah go from there?"

Again, Thatcher waved off her concerns. "You'll crash at our place…we've got plenty of room."

Fallyn looked at him as if he were a lifesaver. "Why're you doing this for me?"

Thatcher shrugged. "DesRon 23 helps out people who need it." He gave her a friendly smile. "And it definitely sounds like you need help."

He desperately tried to ignore how the smile Fallyn gave him did funny things to his insides.

* * *

"So, tell me about yourself," Foote stated as he and Cory sat in a booth in the Chinese restaurant.

Cory shrugged. "Not much to tell…I was raised in Columbus, Ohio in the foster care system. The woman who handled my case was single, so the state refused to let her officially adopt me, but I lived with her because there were no available spaces in the local group homes." She looked down and muttered under her breath. "I am _so_ glad she was never able to adopt me."

Foote looked confused. "I thought it was the dream of most foster kids to get adopted."

His companion nodded. "Yeah, but it depends on the family. Abby and I had…different opinions on numerous things."

"How so?"

"Let's just say I didn't look like this," Cory gestured to herself, "in high school. I wore ankle-length skirts, long-sleeve blouses, and had hair down to my waist."

Foote tilted his head, attempting to picture the girl sitting across from him with long hair, which of course his perverted brain turned into a vision of Cory with said long hair and wearing nothing else, with all her tattoos – those he'd seen and those he hadn't seen – on full display. He liked it.

"I can see it," he replied.

"You were picturing me naked, weren't you?"

Foote fell back on his naval training. "I refuse to answer that on the grounds it might diminish the image I must uphold of being an officer and a gentleman."

Cory gave him a 'yeah, right' look and he immediately gave in. "Okay, even _I_ didn't believe that one." While she laughed, he asked, "What made you change styles so dramatically from then until now?"

"It was never my style to _begin_ with," Cory replied. "Abby dressed that way, and she thought that was how I should dress, too." She shook her head. "She couldn't understand why I never got dates in high school."

"You weren't popular?"

"Hell no," Cory scoffed. "I was a fucking wallflower. I was in Art Club and kept to myself. Nobody noticed me, and I ignored them right back. After school, I worked at McDonald's and just saved every cent I could until I had enough to afford my own place. Once I could, I quit McDonald's, moved out, and pretty much stopped contacting Abby. I started work at a local tattoo parlor, and because I'd cut off all contact with her, Abby didn't find out I'd changed jobs until about six months later."

"Why'd you cut off all contact with Abby?" Foote asked.

"Abby had a bad habit of interfering in things she had no business sticking her nose into. She always thought she meant well and couldn't accept the fact that a lot of times her help, advice, interference, whatever, wasn't needed or wanted. She did that to me several times in high school, including trying to find me a date for the prom."

Foote cringed. "Ouch."

"Yeah, that _really_ helped my social standing," Cory snarked. "Anyway, once I moved out here, I cut my hair off and started getting inked." She shook her head. "I haven't seen her since I left Columbus."

"So, what're you gonna do now?"

Cory shrugged. "No idea…at least I have a little money saved up to where I can afford to pay my bills and shit while I look for another job." She smirked. "If I can't find a better one, this is Vegas, so there's always porn."

"Heh…" Foote's brain took a few minutes to process that, providing him with some very nice images along the way.

Cory noticed his vacant expression and rolled her eyes, hiding a grin. "You're picturing that, aren't you?"

Foote nodded. "Yes…yes, I am."

"You're a good-looking guy," Cory stated, "you could probably get into that industry if you wanted."

Foote decided to channel his inner DesRon 23 and leaned over the table to murmur in Cory's ear. "And work all my scenes with you?"

He pulled back to see Cory's brown eyes had darkened considerably, and she was gazing at him with a predatory look. Foote smirked and retreated to his side of the booth.

"Hurry up and eat," Cory ordered, picking up her chopsticks.

"That eager to get rid of me?" Foote inquired.

Cory shook her head. "No…it's just that if we're gonna be doing porn together, it's best we make sure we're compatible first, right?"

"By compatible you mean…?" Foote trailed off, not wanting to make assumptions.

His companion's answering smirk told him more than words ever could.

* * *

As the sun set over the Vegas Strip, everyone got ready to enjoy the nightlife. Aulick and Jenni, Stanly and Maya, Claxton and Ashlie, Dyson and Chelsea, Espada and Alexandra, Spence, and Trigger all made plans to go to a nightclub, with Spence dragging Tashkent into the outing as well. Thatcher begged off, citing getting Fallyn settled into his portion of the penthouse suite (she'd been introduced to the group earlier that afternoon and everyone had welcomed her as the newest member of the family). Charlie and Hayden also declined, Charlie stating he was taking his girlfriend out for a nice dinner and then to see Cirque du Soleil's _O_.

"You about ready, babe?" Stanly called to Maya, who was holed up in the bathroom getting ready. "I think we're all going to get some dinner before we head to the club, so we gotta meet up and decide where we wanna go."

"Did you hang our outfits for tomorrow up?" Maya called back.

"Done," the destroyer replied. "Though I could've sworn you had two garment bags…I only found one."

"Don't worry about it," his girlfriend assured him. "I wanted to make sure one of them fit okay before I got dressed for the club."

"Is it okay?"

Stanly glanced up when the bathroom door opened, and his brain nearly failed at seeing Maya dressed as _Star Trek: Voyager_ 's Seven of Nine, complete with Borg implants.

"Thank you, God," he stated, looking up at the ceiling before promptly pulling out his phone and quickly sending a text to Aulick as Maya walked over to him and straddled his lap.

"Resistance is futile," she purred.

Well, there was only one thing he could say to that.

"Assimilate me, gorgeous!"

* * *

"The hell?" Aulick looked at his phone, confused.

"What's up, dude?" Spence looked over at his brother.

"Stanly and Maya just backed out," Aulick replied. "He just sent me this text: 'Can't make it…important Starfleet business. #ResistanceIsFutile.' Got any idea what he's talking about?"

"Not a clue," Spence shook his head. "I haven't gotten into _Star Trek_ yet."

"Hey, anyone heard from Foote?" Aulick inquired. "I've texted him several times and have yet to get a response."

"Don't worry about it, bro…we're World War II destroyers," Spence attempted to ease Aulick's mind. "Any criminal would have to be a complete retard to think he could take one of us on and win." He smirked. "He's probably joined some high-stakes poker tournament and has his phone turned off. This is Vegas, after all."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Aulick conceded, placing his phone back in his pocket.

* * *

Foote gazed at the spackled white ceiling, randomly picking out pictures in the pattern while he trailed his fingers over Cory's sweat-dampened skin as she lay sprawled across his chest. He shifted slightly, starting when something poked him in the shoulder, then pulled the riding crop from underneath him. He smirked, remembering their brief tryst into BDSM which resulted in Cory discovering that Foote's skin was like his armored hull, meaning no matter how rough she got with a riding crop, he wouldn't be hurt by it.

"I can feel you smirking from here," Cory muttered. She punctuated her statement by nipping his chest. "Keep it up and I'll get a whip."

"That could be interesting," Foote looked down at her and grinned.

Cory raised her head and locked eyes with him, a similarly wicked grin on her own face. After finishing their meal at the Chinese restaurant, the pair had gone back to Cory's small efficiency apartment, where the beautiful tattoo artist had learned that though Foote was a virgin, he had years of overhearing conversations between various crewmembers. When combined with the wonders of the internet, the destroyer had an endless supply of techniques to draw from, resulting in Cory being very pleasantly surprised. They'd been lying together for the past fifteen or so minutes, planning out Cory's move to Norfolk.

"You seriously want to invest in a tattoo shop and let me run it?" Cory asked.

"Sure," Foote replied. "Think of me as a sort of 'silent partner'. You run it however you want and make it the kick-ass business I know it's gonna be, and I'll sit back and bask in your happiness." He glanced around. "Guess we better get up and get you packed, huh?"

Cory nodded and sat up, glancing around. "I don't have much…most of the furniture came with the apartment. We can pack my shit and then I guess stay at whatever hotel you and your brothers are at."

"We're in the Penthouse Suite at the Bellagio," Foote replied, grinning at Cory's shocked look. "So, let's pack up and then we can head back there and see how comfy that king-size bed is."

Judging by how quickly she got up, Foote guessed Cory fully approved of that plan.

* * *

Converse strolled through the hotel lobby, looking to meet up with the rest of those going to the club. Not seeing anyone he knew in the lobby itself, he decided to check the bar. Upon entry, he found the same results, but he also decided there was no way he wasn't going to leave said bar without…replenishment.

"Jack Daniels," he requested, stepping up to the bar and sliding onto a stool. Unlike the hotel in Norfolk where Aulick had had problems even though he'd been in uniform and had proper ID, the bartender here simply nodded, filled a glass, and set it in front of him. Converse took a sip of his drink, feeling the burn of the whiskey slide down his throat. _God, I love Vegas_ , he thought.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, signaling an alert. He pulled it out and grinned upon seeing Keely had updated her Facebook status:

 **I'm at the bar! Whoo! Dribks!**

Converse smirked, the misspelled word giving indication that the Chief was already well on course to being three sheets to the wind. He glanced around, looking at the bar's various occupants. _Where is she?_ He then noticed the woman sitting beside him putting her phone inside her dress and looked more closely at her. When he saw who it was his jaw nearly hit the floor.

 _Have mercy…_

Keely had apparently gone to a hair stylist earlier that day, for her black hair now had streaks of dark magenta running through it. Converse figured those to be temporary and easily washed-out, as they were against regs. Her makeup was simple: eyeliner designed to give her eyes a dark, smoky look, though the destroyer had always privately thought she never needed any makeup to begin with. She wore large silver hoop earrings in each ear, along with a simple silver chain around her neck. She shifted slightly, causing the necklace to move, and Converse also saw she was wearing a black silk choker.

 _Damn…that's sexy as_ fuck…

But it was Keely's dress that really caught his eye: battleship gray, skin-tight, lace-up the entire back, and cut low enough in front to give a glimpse of some very nice…accoutrements that her uniform had kept well-hidden.

 _Just enough for a handful_ , the destroyer thought to himself. _Perfect… Wait, why the hell am I checking her out?! Oh,_ dayum _…dem legs!_

Keely's dress came down to her upper thighs, showing off a very nice set of legs – another thing her uniform had kept hidden – and her outfit was completed by a pair of three-inch platform heels.

"Havin' fun?" he asked.

Keely turned to face him, and she smiled happily.

"Connieverse! I been drinkin!"

Converse snorted back laughter. "Yeah, I can see that."

Keely giggled. "I'm drinkin' 'cuz I'm _free_! You guys're gonna do whatever the fuck you want, and I'm jus' gonna sibback an' watch! No more responsta- reponda- dammit!"

Converse could tell she was trying to say 'responsibility', but it wasn't coming out. Keely looked up at him and pouted adorably. "Connieverse, my mouth's broken! I can't say responstility!"

"You mean 'responsibility'?" Converse grinned, and Keely nodded.

"Yeah! That word!" She sighed and glanced around. "But I'm bored now. I wanna do somethin'." Her eyes lit up as she apparently got an idea. "Ooh! We're in Vegas, Connieverse! Les' do somethin' crazy!"

"You could take a video of me peein' off the roof of the hotel," Converse joked.

Keely wrinkled her nose. "Eww! No, I wan' do crazy, nah video!"

"I'm sure there's a strip club somewhere in this town that's hosting an amateur night." Converse put forth his idea, though inwardly he was bitch-slapping himself for even suggesting it. _The only person she should be dancing like that for is me. Wait…where the_ fuck _did_ that _come from?!_

He was brought out of his thoughts by a smack to the shoulder from Keely. "Pervert!" The Chief growled. "I don' wanna be a stripper!"

"You'd probably win if you did…speaking as a member of the male sex, you look hot as fuck in that dress," Converse smirked, and was pleased to see Keely blush before giving him a positively wicked smile that did funny things to the destroyer's insides.

"Look all you want, but nooo touchy!" She shook her finger and then burst out laughing drunkenly. Converse simply sat there and watched her. Suddenly, Keely appeared to get an idea, for she started bouncing in her seat excitedly.

"Ooh! Ooh! Connieverse! I know what we can do!"

"Whatcha got in mind?" Converse was curious to find out exactly what Keely's alcohol-addled brain had come up with.

"Lemme whisper it," Keely giggled. "Issa secret!"

Converse shrugged and leaned over so Keely could murmur her idea in his ear. When she did, the destroyer found it hard not to burst out laughing. It was a helluva crazy idea. It had the potential to turn out _so_ bad. But, if he was truly honest with himself, the idea also had a lot of merit…particularly in terms of Chaos / Fallout Factor. And in the end, there really was only one response he could give her.

"Sounds awesome…rock on!"

Keely squealed excitedly and clapped her hands before jumping off her barstool and tugging Converse towards the exit. The destroyer tossed some cash on the bar to pay for their drinks and followed her. As they headed towards the front doors of the hotel, they were spotted by Spence, who was just getting off the elevator.

 _Wonder where that hot chick is draggin' Converse in such a hurry,_ the destroyer mused, not recognizing Keely.

But his ponderings on what his brother was getting up to were put on the back burner when he noticed Tashkent sitting on one of the lobby couches wearing the quintessential 'little black dress'. She was attracting all sorts of attention from male passersby but was ignoring or shooting each one down.

 _New mission: Accepted!_ Spence thought, strolling over while humming to himself.

"Can you charm a Red tin can, Spencey-boy, Spencey-boy? Can you charm a Red tin can, Spence-a-roonie? I can charm that Red tin can, show her I can be her man…I'm a sailor, and by God, I am a Fletcher!"

* * *

Charles Ausburne and Hayden entered their hotel room, talking excitedly about the show they'd seen that evening.

"What I wanna know is how the heck they do some of the moves they did in that show," Charlie stated, "because some of them looked highly dangerous, and if you missed a cue, then you would go 'splat' like an egg."

"I know, right?" Hayden nodded, then smiled shyly. "I had a great time tonight, Charlie…thanks for taking me." She embraced her boyfriend and kissed him lightly.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Charlie replied. "I know I had a great time…excellent food, incredible entertainment, and the most beautiful woman in Vegas to enjoy it with."

Hayden blushed. "I need to go hang my dress up," she stated. "I don't want it to wrinkle."

"Go ahead," Charlie replied. "I dunno about you, but that king-sized bed is lookin' really comfy."

His girlfriend giggled and disappeared into the bathroom. Charlie busied himself by getting out of his own dress clothes and into a pair of pajama pants and t-shirt and then getting into bed, snuggling down into the pillows and making himself comfortable.

"The bed's great, babe," he called to Hayden. "Wanna watch a movie before we go to sleep?"

"If you want," Hayden called back. Charlie flipped on the TV and began looking through the channels. Not seeing anything particularly interesting, he clicked on the pay-per-view films.

"Wanna watch _Hotel Transylvania 3_?" He called. "They've got it on pay-per-view."

He heard the bathroom door open as he continued paging through the movie listing and glanced over at Hayden.

All thoughts about movies went right out the window as he beheld his girlfriend framed in the bathroom door, wearing only a black-and-pink lingerie set.

"Holy fuck…" he trailed off, further words failing him.

Hayden blushed and walked over to the bed before stretching out beside him. "I was thinking maybe we could do something else…" she trailed off nervously.

"Are you sure?" Charlie had told Hayden from the start of their relationship that he'd let her set the pace and wouldn't pressure her into doing anything she wasn't completely ready for. Now it appeared she was ready to take the next step with him.

Hayden nodded. "I bought this when we were shopping today…what do you think?" She snuggled close to him, pressing her body against his.

Charlie grinned and ran his hand down her side, reveling in the feel of her silky skin. "I'd say you look exquisite, but that doesn't even begin to describe you."

His girlfriend blushed. "Just be gentle, okay? I've never…" she trailed off, embarrassed.

"Me neither," Charlie replied. "I know that might be kinda hard to believe, but it's true." He paused, then said something he'd been wanting to say for a while. "I love you, Hayden."

Hayden gave him a blinding smile and took his face in her hands before kissing him passionately. "I love you, too, Charlie," she murmured upon pulling back.

"I've gotta be the luckiest guy in Vegas right now," the destroyer muttered to himself, and Hayden giggled, nuzzling his ear.

"I think you're about to get even luckier…"

As they lost themselves in each other, Charlie had to admit Hayden had a very good point.

* * *

Keely came back to consciousness and immediately regretted it when she felt like an Iowa-class battleship had fired a full broadside inside her head. The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't wearing her usual pajamas…in fact, she wasn't wearing anything at all.

Then she became aware of a guy's arm draped over her stomach, which she removed as she sat up, wincing as she stretched muscles that were apparently sore. Wondering what she'd done last night, she pushed the blankets back and groaned inwardly when she saw a few spots of blood on the sheets.

 _Well, I know one thing that happened last night_ , she thought, blushing as she ran her left hand over her face, then started briefly as she felt metal against her cheek. She pulled her hand back and found two very nice rings on a certain finger on her left hand.

 _Oh…my…GOD!_

She glanced around the room frantically until a folded piece of paper on the nightstand caught her eye. She grabbed it and unfolded it with a deep sense of foreboding; sure enough, it was exactly what she thought it was.

 _Oh, FUCK…it's a State of Nevada Marriage License! Who the hell did I…?_

She glanced to her left and saw Converse lying next to her, otherwise dead to the world.

The scream that followed woke most of the occupants of that floor of the hotel.

* * *

 **UP NEXT:** The return to Norfolk! Thatcher and Foote help their girlfriends confront their pasts! Converse and Keely handle married life! And what have the Japanese shipgirls been up to?

Note: Pics of Fallyn and Cory, as well as Keely's and Hayden's outfits, are available upon request. I'm not going to bother posting the links here due to FFN's stupid rule about no image linking.

 **READ & REVIEW!**


	9. Feelings, Frustrations, and Fallouts

**DISCLAIMER:** See Chapter One.

Hope everyone had an awesome Christmas. Mine was quiet; got several volumes of manga, and I FINALLY own the TRUE Star Wars Sequel Trilogy (aka Timothy Zahn's Thrawn Trilogy) twenty years after first reading it in seventh grade. Sadly, Santa did not bring me a Kongo, Mutsu, or Saratoga of my very own. (IMHO, he's either falling down on the job or going senile.)

A couple words of warning for this chapter:  
1) There's a few instances where it earns its 'M' rating. Not explicit as some stories I've seen on here, but it does get pretty racy.  
2) There are more digs at real-life figures in this chapter, including one POS that very-much deserves it (his name has been changed to avoid any legal issues). Apologies if you don't like it, but it's what my muse gave me the idea to write.

Thanks to **Pyeknu** , **KINGTIGERACE** , **Shade1332** , **Gnaoh El Nart** , **Tekketsu1220** , **F-14 Tomcat Lover** , **Danny79** , and **Xeno6804** for reviewing the last chapter, and for **Anonymus Texan** for reviewing Chapter One!

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Feelings, Frustrations, and Fallouts**

Eddie Blaskewicz was a man on a mission. He was determined to figure out what was going on between his adopted children. Ever since the girls had gotten their refits, Gavin had been distancing himself from them and from the family in general. He woke up and left every morning before anyone else was up and usually didn't get home until 2100, upon which he went straight to bed so the whole cycle could repeat itself the following day. He'd even started working the same schedule on the weekends, too, so it was getting to where the rest of the family rarely saw him. Tenryu was worried, but it was the girls Blaskewicz was concerned about, one of them particularly. Hibiki was not taking Gavin's behavior well due to their closeness; while Gavin had never been outright hostile to any of his sisters, he wasn't making any effort to spend time with them, either, something that was completely out of character for him.

So today, Blaskewicz was headed to the repair yards armed with meatball subs to see if he could get to the bottom of things. He knew if he succeeded in doing so, Tenryu would be happy, and if she found out he was the cause of things turning around, she would in turn be happy with him, which would lead to fun things.

Blaskewicz liked it when his wife was happy with him…that was when fun, naughty things happened.

He walked through the main doors of the repair shop, waving to Akashi, Yubari, and Ayase, all of whom were bent over some sort of weapon that would probably make a very loud noise, create a very big explosion or a very big hole somewhere, and thereby cause Fleet Admiral Avers to do some more screaming, but such was life at World Kanmusu Fleet Headquarters.

He found his son's office door open, and he glanced inside to see Gavin poring over a set of blueprints and making rapid notes. Blaskewicz knocked on the doorframe.

"C'mon in," Gavin responded without looking up. When he did glance up to see who his visitor was, he immediately snapped to attention, given that both he and his father were in uniform.

"As you were," Blaskewicz was quick to wave off military protocol. "This is a social call." He held up the bag of sandwiches. "I bringeth sustenance."

"Thanks, Dad," Gavin replied. "I haven't been able to get to the mess hall for lunch yet."

"I had an ulterior motive for doing this," Blaskewicz replied as he handed out the sandwiches. "I'm going to guess you already know what I'm talking about."

Gavin sighed guiltily. "Yeah, I know."

"So, what gives?"

"The girls and I aren't related biologically," Gavin stated, "so when they got their refits and went from cute kids to girls my own age…well…" he looked down at his sandwich, the tips of his ears glowing bright red from embarrassment.

Blaskewicz immediately knew what his son was trying to say. "You saw them in a whole new light, didn't you?"

Gavin nodded. "You know how close Hibiki and I are. When she got her refit, what do you think my first thought was when I saw her?"

"I'm not sure I need to know," Blaskewicz muttered.

"Yeah, it was along those lines," Gavin confirmed. He sighed. "When I found myself thinking those thoughts about a girl who's for all intents and purposes my _sister_ , I started thinking I was some sort of sicko freak or something –"

"You're not –" Blaskewicz attempted to reassure his son, but Gavin waved him off.

"I know, Dad…it was then I realized she and I aren't related, so me thinking along those lines is perfectly normal and not indications I need to have my head examined." He sighed. "Then I started thinking, 'What if she doesn't feel the same way and I wind up destroying how close we are?'"

Somehow, Blaskewicz thought Gavin's concerns were all for naught, but he chose not to comment, preferring to let his son vent his frustration.

"Then," Gavin continued, "I started thinking, 'What if she _does_ feel the same way I do?'. What happens then? I mean, I doubt you and Mom would be comfortable with it, and what about Ikazuchi-chan, Inazuma-chan, and Akatsuki-chan? How would they take it? I don't want to be the cause of Hibiki-chan having conflict with her sisters." He flopped back in his chair and ran his hands over his face wearily. "Jeez, this sucks…" He finally shrugged and picked up his sandwich. "Probably the best thing for me to do is to just not even mention it."

"Maybe," Blaskewicz nodded, "but how long is this whole avoidance thing going to go on?"

Gavin sighed. "I'll talk to Hibiki-chan about it on Saturday afternoon, I promise."

* * *

As it turned out, Gavin wasn't going to get the opportunity to wait until his promised time; the snowy-haired member of DesDiv 6 had decided to take matters into her own hands. As he slowly awakened the following morning, Gavin's brain informed him there was something different about his bedroom since he'd gone to sleep the night before. He rolled over groggily to grab his phone and check the time, only to find he wasn't alone.

"WAUGH!" He jumped, startled to find Hibiki lying next to him in what appeared to be a thin tank top. He silently prayed that wasn't all she was wearing, but the way his luck had been running lately he wasn't about to lift the blankets to check for himself.

"G-Good morning, Hibiki-chan," he muttered in Russian, already on edge with the way his best friend was staring at his bare chest. He'd taken to sleeping in his boxers lately but had always dressed before coming out of his room so that the destroyers never saw anything they weren't supposed to.

"Good morning, Gavin-san," Hibiki replied, also in Russian.

"Wh-What're you doing here?" Gavin hated possibly opening a large can of worms, but Hibiki had never come into his room like this before, so he figured he was entitled to at least ask.

"Have we done something wrong, Gavin-san?" Hibiki asked, her large blue eyes shadowed in hurt.

"Huh?" Gavin's brain was still attempting to start, in addition to coping with the fact he'd woken up to find his best friend in bed next to him.

"Ever since my sisters and I got our refits, you've started avoiding us," Hibiki murmured. "You've started working long hours, and we rarely see you anymore." Tears pooled in the destroyer's eyes. "If we've offended you in some way, tell me so we can fix it…my sisters miss their brother, and I feel like I've lost my best friend." Her voice broke, and the tears dripped down her cheeks.

Gavin wanted to shoot himself at the sight of Hibiki crying. "No, Hibiki-chan…none of you offended me or did anything else to make me mad. All this is my fault," he sighed, "because I'm an idiot."

"You are _not_ an idiot!" Hibiki replied fiercely. "You are the smartest person I know!"

"But I am an idiot in one way," Gavin replied. When Hibiki tilted her head cutely, a confused expression on her face, he elaborated. "I hurt the one person in this world who means the most to me simply because I started seeing her differently." He flopped onto his back and waited for the inevitable fallout. _Well, that's that…friendship ruined._

"You started seeing me differently?" Hibiki asked. "In what way?"

 _Warning! Warning! Minefield ahead!_ Gavin's brain began screaming. So being male, he went with a typical male defense, thinking it would appease Hibiki. "I dunno…just differently," he replied. _There,_ his brain told him. _That should do it._

For all his genius IQ, he didn't count on the legendary DesDiv 6 persistence and inquisitiveness.

" _Nyet_ , elaborate, please," Hibiki stated, then surprised the hell out of Gavin by straddling his waist and placing both hands on his chest. "I am not moving until you are being completely truthful with me. Do I not deserve that much?" More tears welled in her eyes.

Gavin knew he needed to escape from this position as soon as possible – especially since Hibiki's change in position confirmed she was wearing only that thin tank top and a pair of light blue cotton panties – so he figured honesty was pretty much the _only_ policy at this point.

"I started seeing you as a girl instead of my sister," he confessed, silently praying that Hibiki would accept that explanation and let him up before something…embarrassing happened.

"How do you mean?" Hibiki tilted her head cutely again. The cute expression combined with the innocently provocative way she was dressed was almost too much for Gavin to bear, and so his body – being that of a healthy teenaged male – decided to answer the question for him.

 _FUCK!_ Gavin screamed inwardly as he felt his body react to the destroyer's closeness. He knew the exact moment Hibiki felt it, too, for her eyes widened in surprise. Gavin began calculating how far he could run in just his boxers before either the MPs caught him or DesDiv 6 did. He figured a court-martial for conduct unbecoming an officer would probably be less painful than whatever four Japanese destroyers could do. _As soon as she runs, I'm outta here._

"O-Oh," Hibiki murmured softly.

Gavin inwardly cringed. _Here comes the hurricane…_

He was most certainly _not_ prepared for Hibiki's surprised expression to turn into a pleased smirk.

" _Khorosho_ ," the destroyer purred – _freaking_ _purred_ _!_ Gavin thought – before leaning down and draping her body across his chest.

"Meep…" Gavin squeaked, not knowing what to do.

"So, you finally figured it out," Hibiki smiled.

"Huh?" Gavin responded intelligently.

Hibiki's response was to give him that knowing smirk again. "Allow me to clarify," she murmured, and before Gavin could respond or react, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

To Gavin, the kiss felt like he was being given an electric shock, while at the same time everything in his world suddenly slid into place. _No way I'm ever giving this up_ , he thought, and gave in to what he'd been trying to suppress for days. He moaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Hibiki, pulling the destroyer against him. Gavin's brain nearly short-circuited when Hibiki ground her hips against him, and the destroyer emitted a moan of her own when his hands clasped her hips and used a certain part of his anatomy to press back. He trailed butterfly kisses down her jawline, finding a sweet spot behind Hibiki's right ear that made the snowy-haired destroyer all but melt in his arms.

The two were so…involved…with one another that the bedroom door opening was a complete surprise.

* * *

Blaskewicz was up early for a Saturday morning. He fed Joji since the Great Dane kept following him around and whimpering pitifully – and he was a sucker for the 'poor, pitiful puppy' act – and was about to go wake up his wife when he heard low voices coming from Gavin's room. Figuring his son was up working at his drafting table and had the television on for company, he opened the door without knocking.

Seeing his son lying in bed in nothing but his boxers and Hibiki draped on top of him like a blanket and kissing him like there was no tomorrow was _not_ something he ever wanted to see. The pair broke apart upon hearing the door open and froze like deer caught in headlights when they saw who had entered. Gavin appeared to be on the verge of a meltdown, while Hibiki merely smiled innocently and snuggled closer to Gavin.

Blaskewicz knew he couldn't really be mad at either of them; he'd wanted Gavin to resolve the issue between himself and Hibiki, and it seemed like that had most certainly happened. He did an about-face and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and headed down the hall to his own bedroom so he could inform his wife and allow her to join him in his meltdown.

"Honey…"

No reason he should bear this burden alone…

* * *

Hibiki watched Blaskewicz walk out of the room and then turned her attention back to Gavin, who looked quite confused.

"I dunno if we're in trouble or if him walking out of the room without saying anything means we can continue what we were doing."

Hibiki blushed slightly as she thought about what could've happened had they not been interrupted. She knew she wasn't ready for _that_ , but another part of her said she probably wouldn't have said no had the offer been on the table.

Beneath her, Gavin shrugged. "I think I'll just take the third option and go back to sleep." When Hibiki made to get out of bed and leave, she was surprised when Gavin tugged her down beside him and then drew her into his arms. She instinctively molded herself to him and nuzzled her face into his chest, inhaling his comforting scent.

" _Ya lyublyu tebya, koibito_ , (I love you, sweetheart)" Gavin murmured, kissing the top of her head. Hibiki's heart skipped a beat and she smiled widely.

" _Khorosho…ya tozhe tebya lyublyu_ , (I love you, too) Gavin-san," the snowy-haired destroyer murmured, settling down for what she imagined would be her usual fitful sleep. Ever since coming back, she'd usually had at least one nightmare a night where she would relive the losses of her sisters and then the ignominy of surviving the war.

For the first time since her return, she slept peacefully.

* * *

Tatsuo Onoda was quite pleased with himself. Over the past eighteen months, he'd joined the JMSDF, excelled at Basic Training, and passed his specialty school with flying colors. Then his Commanding Officer had told the crew about a chance to work with the World Kanmusu Fleet, which promised an increase in pay and a transfer to a much-nicer base. Not one to pass up such an opportunity, he'd volunteered. Now, having changed his JMSDF Petty Officer 3rd Class uniform for a WKF Japanese Petty Officer 2nd Class uniform – transferring to the WKF had brought him an early promotion as well – he was on his way to his new assignment: Public Relations NCO for the WKF.

He found the WKF Public Relations Office to be inside what appeared to be a shipgirl dorm. An odd location, to be sure, but no one ever said things involving shipgirls were normal. He found the door he needed and knocked.

"Hi-hi~!" The door swung open to reveal one of the shipgirls. She wore a bright orange dress – _she looks like a traffic cone_ , Onoda thought – and seemed to be unable to stand still for more than three seconds at a time.

"Um, hi," Onoda replied. "I'm looking for the Fleet Public Relations Officer. I'm the new Public Relations NCO, Petty Officer 2nd Class Tatsuo Onoda."

The shipgirl grinned playfully at him.

"Welcome to WKF Public Relations, Petty Officer," she replied. "I'm your CO, Commander Naka-chan, Idol of the Fleet, Desu~!" She tilted her head and placed her index finger against her cheek in a cutesy thinking pose. "I think I shall call you…Minion."

Onoda tried very hard to ignore the sense of foreboding that seemed to be encroaching upon him.

* * *

John Rhodes flopped onto his back, exhausted.

"I'm gonna need…a few minutes…after that one," he gasped, gazing dazedly up at the ceiling.

Beside him, his light cruiser girlfriend rolled onto her side and propped herself up on an elbow, gazing down at him with a smug grin that said she was _very_ pleased with herself.

"Tired so soon?" Sendai purred, trailing a finger teasingly over John's chest.

"Just need a brief rest, is all," John amended. "C'mere, gorgeous." He pulled his girlfriend's sweaty body into his arms so that she was half-draped on top of him and kissed the top of her head affectionately. Sendai made a cute happy noise in response and snuggled closer. It was then that John decided to broach the idea that he'd been thinking about for the past couple days.

"Honey, I'd like to try something," he began.

Sendai raised her head from his chest. "I'm listening," the light cruiser purred, giving him a completely filthy grin. Had he not been exhausted from their recent activities, John was positive the look his girlfriend was currently giving him would've had him at 'all stations manned and ready for action' within seconds.

"Not like _that_ ," he laughed, then kissed the top of Sendai's head when she pouted playfully. "I want us to spend time together and learn about each other. I don't want our relationship defined solely by sex, do you?"

" _Incredible_ sex," Sendai murmured into his chest, raking her teeth over his skin playfully, then raised her head to meet his eyes and smiled tenderly. "But no, I don't either."

"So, let's get out and do things together…didn't you tell me you were a fan of video games?"

Sendai nodded. "You could call me a gamer, yeah."

"All right, then tomorrow we'll meet at your quarters and you can show me some of the games you like." John grinned. "If we get good enough, maybe we can enter a tournament together."

The light cruiser grinned at him excitedly. She seemed touched that her boyfriend wanted to participate in things she was interested in. "Really?"

"Sure," John replied. "Sweetheart, I'm in this for the long haul…I ain't the 'love 'em and leave 'em' type."

Sendai's response was to grab his face in both hands and kiss him senseless.

"That sound like something you'd want to do?" John murmured into her neck after they'd separated in order to breathe.

Sendai nodded. " _Hai."_ She then surprised her boyfriend by straddling his waist and giving him a grin filled with promise. "But we can start that tomorrow, can't we?" She giggled when a movement she made with her hips caused John's eyes to cross.

The kiss he gave her seconds later showed her he had no problem with that.

* * *

He could feel her coming. He'd heard her footsteps padding softly down the hall and sensed her standing at the doorway watching him sleep. He peeked through barely-slit eyes and saw her making a running jump towards the bed, leaping into the air…

"DEEEEESSSS~!"

Avers quickly sat up and snatched his daughter from mid-air, covering the little shipgirl in kisses as she squealed in delight.

"Gotcha!" he laughed as Kongo Jr. wiggled in his grasp. Beside him, Kongo sat up and smiled when she saw what her husband was doing. She leaned over and kissed both Avers and her daughter good morning before getting out of bed and leaving the room, coming back a few minutes later with Tosh.

"Was he awake?" Avers asked.

Kongo nodded. "He was playing quietly in his crib, Dess." She cuddled her son close. "We have such well-behaved children, Teitoku-des."

"You know why this one decided to wake us up this morning," Avers indicated Kongo Jr., who was currently trying to balance on the mattress. "She and Tosh have play group today."

"Yes!" Kongo laughed. "And I think she has a special reason for being so excited about it, Dess!"

"Oh?"

"I think she has a crush on one of the boys there." Kongo giggled. "It's so cute, Dess!"

Avers smiled. He knew at this stage it was more puppy love than anything serious, so freaking out would be pointless. "Which one is it?"

"His name is Isoroku…he wants to become a naval officer like his father."

The Fleet Admiral thought a moment, then realized who his wife was talking about. "Oh…Lieutenant Goto's son, right?"

"Dess!"

Avers smiled, then leaned over and kissed his wife, who responded enthusiastically. The Fleet Admiral pulled back and murmured in her ear. "Stay here…I'll get these two to play group and be right back."

Judging by the quiet squeal the fast battleship emitted, Avers guessed she didn't have a problem with those plans at all.

* * *

Aircraft carrier Peter Strasser slowly came back to consciousness, a smile coming over his face as he remembered the events of the previous day. Movement to his left caused him to glance down and smile.

Surcouf sighed and snuggled closer in her sleep, her left hand splayed across Peter's chest. The carrier's smile widened when he caught sight of the two rings that he'd placed on her finger yesterday in front of most of the German and French shipgirls, as well as one Italian shipgirl; Aquila had been very emotional when Peter had categorically stated there was no way she was missing his and Surcouf's wedding, as she was part of the groom's family. Technically, she wasn't yet, but seeing as how she and Graf were all but attached at the hip whenever they could get to the other's base, it was only a matter of time before his sister ship made it official with the Italian aircraft carrier.

Most of the other nation's shipgirls had been unable to make it, though all had sent their best wishes, including Fleet Admiral Avers and his wife. Unlike the massive wedding ceremonies in Japan, the wedding the previous day had been quiet and simple…an exchange of rings and vows followed by a brief reception before the couple headed to their honeymoon on Heligoland following a cruise in the North Sea aboard his newly-summoned hull.

Peter glanced down as Surcouf slowly awoke. The French submarine stretched like a cat – which caused all sorts of happy thoughts to enter Peter's mind – and smiled sleepily as she noticed he was awake.

"Good morning, husband," she murmured in French.

"Good morning, wife," Peter replied. "Sleep well?"

Surcouf nodded. "Very well." She smiled softly. "I always sleep the best when I'm in your arms, _mon chérie,_ you know that."

Peter nodded. "Yes, I know…I just never get tired of hearing you say it."

Surcouf nuzzled his neck, inhaling his scent. The previous day had been the happiest day of her life, and she couldn't wait to start the next chapter with her husband.

"I have a question: why did we not simply go to Heligoland ourselves instead of going in your hull form?"

Peter grinned. "I wanted to give the island residents a show. How many times will they get to see a German aircraft carrier drop anchor in their harbor?"

Surcouf giggled. "Men and their penchant for showmanship…"

"Madam, a Prussian officer never shows off," Peter faked acting affronted, causing his new wife to give him a 'get real' look. He sighed. "All right, you got me."

Surcouf giggled and pressed herself against him, giving him a come-hither look. "Yes, yes, I did."

Further conversation was foregone in favor of more…honeymoon-like activities.

* * *

Back in Wilhelmshaven, another ship-couple was awakening for the day. As the alarm on her cell phone rang, Bismarck sleepily reached over and turned it off before nuzzling the warm body beside her.

"Time to wake up," she murmured.

Prinz Eugen whined and snuggled deeper into the blankets. "Don' wanna…"

"Emden's making cinnamon rolls in the commissary this morning…" the battleship trailed off, knowing that would get anyone moving. The light cruiser's cinnamon rolls had attained near-legendary status since the first time she'd made them; each one was the size of a dinner plate, baked to fluffy perfection, seasoned with the perfect amount of sugar and spices, and smothered in thick cream cheese frosting. She only made them once a month due to how rich they were; if they were a regular menu feature, by now every person on the base would weigh as much as Bismarck's hull form.

"I'm up!" Prinz bounced out of bed, grabbing her cell phone off the nightstand as she went. She groaned as she opened Facebook messenger.

" _Ach, mein Amerikanischer kamerad…_ " she trailed off, scrolling through the numerous messages.

"Problem?" Bismarck asked.

" _Nein_ ," Prinz Eugen replied, "Just my biggest fan in America posing a question to me about mine and Nürnberg's journey from Copenhagen." She sighed. "Nürnberg and I are the only shipgirls she can ask about it…none of the Allied girls have been summoned yet."

Bismarck read the scenario and shook her head. "It's very much wishful thinking on her part," the battleship stated, "especially from a logistical standpoint." She smiled. "Though I will admit her heart is in the right place. Perhaps we can go to America someday and meet her?"

The cruiser grinned at her girlfriend. "Really?"

"Why not?" Bismarck shrugged. "We were there before, and unfortunately we didn't get to experience everything that country had to offer." A thoughtful look came over her face. "I most definitely have to conquer that thing known as the 'Big Texan Challenge'." She shook her head and smiled. "Come, _Liebchen_ Prinz…the commissary awaits!" She headed for the bathroom that adjoined their quarters. "Perhaps we could do our part for the environment and conserve water by showering together?" She gave Prinz Eugen and come-hither look over her shoulder.

The German cruiser giggled and followed the battleship. 'Water conservation' followed by Emden's famous cinnamon rolls sounded like a great way to start the day.

* * *

Keely sat pouting on the couch in her quarters. Ever since she and DesRon 23 had returned from their little jaunt to Vegas, her life had been turned topsy-turvy-upside-down. The flight home had been raucous and celebration-filled, considering every one of the ship-boys had won in the casino…and each one had won _big_. Converse was by far the biggest winner, hitting a _$30-million-dollar_ jackpot on the slot machines. Dyson wasn't far behind, clearing $23 million at the blackjack table, and Foote with $17 million in a high-stakes poker game. When combined with the totals for the rest of the group, the casino's losses totaled just over a _quarter-billion dollars._

Apparently, a Presidential Unit Citation translated into 'best luck in the known universe'.

Of course, the casino owners were less than pleased, but there was nothing they could do…all the wins were proven to be legal. Upon return to Norfolk, Keely had categorically refused to move into Converse's quarters, and had begun looking into getting a divorce. But then she remembered their conversation back in Vegas shortly after she'd awakened and discovered what had happened…

* * *

" _WE'RE MARRIED?!" Keely shrieked, standing in the middle of Converse's hotel room wrapped in a sheet and waving their marriage license at him frantically._

" _Yep!" Converse grinned. "Oh, by the way: morning, honey!" he crooned, blowing her a kiss and then laughing when Keely looked like she wanted to hang him with his own intestines._

" _Exactly what the HELL made you think I'd be okay with this when I sobered up?!"_

" _You were the one who suggested it in the first place!" the destroyer replied. "And circumstances being what they were last night, I figured 'what the hell' and went along with it."_

" _What circumstances were those?" Keely demanded. "The fact that I was drunk off my ass and unable to make proper decisions?!"_

" _Nah, basically it all boiled down to you looking absolutely fuck-hot in that dress." He grinned. "Of course, you look great right now, too, Toga Girl."_

 _Keely's left eye developed a nervous tic. "Converse, I swear to God…"_

 _The rest of her threat went unspoken as there was a knock at the door._

" _We're fine…sorry for disturbing everyone!" Keely called out, not wanting to involve anyone else in the conversation._

" _You have a package, ma'am," one of the hotel's employees announced. "I'm just dropping it off."_

" _I got it," Converse replied, jumping out of bed and heading to the door, grabbing his wallet from the nightstand as he did so._

" _Jeez!" Keely slapped a hand over her eyes as her husband strode past, obviously not caring his…attributes…were on full display. He stood behind the door as he opened it._

"' _Sup?" He asked whoever was outside._

" _This envelope was dropped off for you and your wife about ten minutes ago, sir," the employee replied. "On behalf of the Bellagio, congratulations on your marriage."_

" _Thanks, dude," Converse grinned and accepted the envelope awkwardly, setting it down just inside the door before handing the employee a hundred-dollar bill for a tip. He then closed the door on the employee – who was still thanking him profusely – and brought the envelope over to the bed._

" _Wanna see what we got?" he grinned._

 _Keely shook her head. "No, I don't." She headed for the bathroom. "I need a shower and then I'm going back to my own room. And when I get home, I'm going to start looking for a divorce lawyer." She groaned. "God! I never thought I'd hear those words come out of my mouth…"_

 _Converse grinned. "Um, yeah…about that…we might have a problem there…"_

She sighed as she recalled her plan being promptly blown out of the water when Converse had informed her that he was an old-fashioned soul when it came to marriage and didn't believe in divorce; now that he was married, he planned to stay that way for the rest of his life.

The fact that he'd said this with a shit-eating grin on his face had made Keely want to strangle him. The urge had gotten even stronger when Converse had announced their nuptials to the rest of the 'family', which her new brothers-in-law had found hilarious, while at the same time they appeared to be ecstatic that their minder was officially part of their family. The girls had tried comforting Keely, but it was obvious they'd sided with their boyfriends; Maya, Jenni, and even Hayden appeared to have also been bitten by the wedding bug, and Keely wondered how long it would be before there was another Fletcher wedding, one that didn't involve Sin City and a drunken whim. Fleet Admiral Robertson hadn't been of much help, either; when Keely had told him what had occurred during the trip, the Admiral had proceeded to congratulate her and then laugh himself sick.

A 'ping' on Keely's phone alerted her to a new Facebook posting. Hopeful that social media might – however briefly – take her mind off the train wreck her personal life now resembled, she grabbed her phone and opened the Facebook app.

 _*Status Update*_ _ **Converse Fletcher**_ _is now Married to_ _ **Keely Burton**_ _._

A red haze descended over Keely's vision. Disregarding everything else – including the way she was currently dressed – she jumped up from the couch, yanked open the door to her suite, stormed across the hall, and pounded on Converse's door. The destroyer opened the door seconds later, a wide grin on his face.

"Hiya, wifey dear!" he then saw how Keely was dressed – cream-colored button-up dress shirt and striped panties with white lace trim – and promptly forgot what else he was going to say. _Whoa, mama!_ "Nice outfit," he complimented.

Keely glanced down and went tomato red before remembering why she'd come to his suite in the first place.

"You posted it on _Facebook_?!" she barked. "Are you _INSANE_?!"

"No way!" Converse grinned. "I just wanted to say to the whole wide world, 'Who went to Vegas and snagged an ultra-hot wife? This guy!" he pointed at himself and gave her a goofy grin.

Keely let out a frustrated scream as she glanced frantically around the room for a focus point to keep from acting on the instinct to murder her husband. A picture standing by Converse's big-screen plasma TV caught her eye and she went over to look at it. When she got a closer look, her jaw dropped.

The picture was apparently her and Converse's wedding photo. She was wearing the dress she remembered from that night, but Converse had somehow changed clothes before the ceremony and was sporting his formal dress whites, complete with gold Captain's stripes on his shoulders and three rows of medals on his chest, including the Distinguished Service Medal. It was a very nice photo, considering she'd been drunk as a skunk when it was taken; their smiles even looked natural, as though they couldn't wait to spend the rest of their lives together.

Keely cracked a small smile as one memory pierced through the haze of that night: how touched she'd been when Converse had appeared in his full uniform. A blush spread across her face when she remembered another reaction later that night in the privacy of their hotel room – mainly straddling Converse's lap with his officer's cap perched on her head – but she forced that memory down to be dealt with later. She then noticed the envelope they'd received the following morning was lying on a shelf on the entertainment system.

"You kept the envelope?" she asked, surprised.

Converse nodded. "Had to…there's another copy of the picture in there. I got three in total."

"Why three copies?"

"One for us to display here," Converse pointed to the framed picture, "I gave another to Fleet Admiral Robertson and his wife, considering he's like the father to all the ship-people on base…" he paused and looked down, seemingly embarrassed. "And I got one copy for you to give to your parents, if you wanted." He looked up, uncertain. "Speaking of your parents, have you even told them yet? Not that I'm tryin' to pry or anything, just that I'd imagine their daughter suddenly getting married would be somethin' they'd wanna know."

Keely thought of her parents and scoffed. "Not really." When she saw Converse wanted her to elaborate, she shook her head. "Long story." A blank DVD case caught her eye and she picked it up, turning to Converse with a raised eyebrow. "Pirated movies?"

The destroyer shook his head. "Nope…video of the ceremony."

Keely was stunned. "You got a _video_ of it, too?"

Converse nodded. "I spared no expense." He shrugged. "I figured, I'm only gonna do it once, so why not make lasting memories?"

"Let me see it."

"Sure." Converse put the DVD in and hit 'play'.

The filming was tastefully done, and showed the ceremony from beginning to end, complete with Keely chattering drunkenly to the officiant while Converse disappeared into the back, presumably to change into his dress whites. When Converse reappeared in his uniform, Keely blushed when she saw the on-screen her give him a _very_ appreciative once-over.

"Yeah, that's right…caught ya lookin'," Converse laughed, doing so even harder when Keely shoved him in annoyance.

It was a fairly-standard ceremony, though Keely was surprised when Converse spoke up about wanting to say something during the vows portion.

" _Chief,"_ he stated, _"you've been our minder for awhile now, and I've come to know you not only as that, but also as the person you are beyond that uniform. I really admire you, and even though most rational people would consider what we're doing completely insane, and once you sober up you'll probably go ape-shit on me for going along with this in the first place,"_ he laughed, and Keely face-palmed when the version of her on the video laughed loudly and nodded, _"I'll never regret doing it. So, here's to a long and happy-crazy life together."_

Keely blushed fire-engine red when the officiant pronounced them man and wife and she proceeded to climb Converse like a jungle gym all while trying to suck his face off. The destroyer carried her off, laughing as she loudly proclaimed to everyone within earshot that they were going back to the hotel to 'make cute lil' destroyer-babies'.

"Oh, my God…I actually _said_ those things?" Keely wanted to crawl under her covers and never show her face in public again.

"Yep," Converse laughed. "Spence wanted to post this video on our YouTube channel, but I told him I'd have to clear it with you first."

"That would be a ginormous 'HELL NO!'," Keely replied, mentally thinking numerous happy thoughts about clobbering Spence in the head with a very large and heavy object. She sighed. "Does anyone outside this naval base know about this?"

"Nah," Converse shook his head. "I mean sure, a lot of people saw us in Vegas, but they probably just chalked it up to another happy drunk couple bein' crazy and tyin' the knot on a whim."

Keely nodded. "True." She rubbed a hand over her face. "My mother's going to hit the ceiling when she finds out…"

"Because she wanted to be there when her baby girl got married?"

"Hell no," Keely scoffed. "Because once again I didn't follow her plan for my life."

"Huh?" Converse was totally lost.

His wife took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My mother is…well, she's someone of influence in Washington." She sighed. "The name Senator Lucinda Fields ring any bells?"

Converse instantly knew who she was talking about. "Holy shit… _she's_ your _Mom_? The woman who put forth a measure to slash the latest defense spending bill by seventy percent?"

Keely nodded. "Democratic Senator Lucinda Fields…yeah, that's her. Burton's her maiden name; I use it so there'll be less chance of someone recognizing me."

"I take it she wasn't exactly a nurturing mother?"

"Only when the cameras were rolling," Keely muttered. "In private, it was 'children should be unseen and unheard'. I expect I'll be hearing from her soon, though…she's up for reelection in 2020, so she'll want me to play Mommy's little girl and campaign in support of her. She tried to get me to do so last election, but I was overseas." She grinned. "Damn, did I dodge a bullet there."

"Yeah, sounds like it," Converse agreed. "I take it she didn't approve of you joining the Navy?"

"That's putting it mildly…a better way of putting it would be she went postal and demanded the Navy Department refuse my enlistment papers. When they told her to go jump in a lake, she swore she'd get even. Hence why nearly every bill that proposes defense spending cuts has gotten her fervent support."

"So, she despises the Navy and the Armed Forces in general because her daughter's serving? No offense to your family, but what kind of fucked-up logic is that?" Converse shook his head.

"She's one of Schumer and Pelosi's closest friends, if that gives you any glimpse into her state of mind," Keely joked.

"'Nuff said."

"I sent her a birthday card back in 2016…it was a picture of me wearing a 'MAGA' hat." Keely stated, causing Converse to crack up laughing. "I wished I could've seen her open it." She sighed. "No, her plans for me – attend an ivy-league school long enough to meet a guy being groomed for politics and then playing the dutiful supporting wife from then on – were completely derailed by my decision to enlist. I pretty much lost my family by that choice, but I haven't regretted it for a second."

Converse grinned at her statement, then took Keely's hand in his, running his fingers over the wedding band and engagement ring that – despite her intentions to get a divorce – she'd never removed. "You've still got a family…you gained a new one in Vegas." He shook his head. "Heck, you gained a new family the second you became our minder…what we did in Vegas just made it official." He reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind Keely's ear, and was surprised when his wife leaned into his touch, her deep brown eyes gazing into his.

"That is, if you _want_ it to be official," he amended.

Keely grabbing him and attempting to recreate the kiss from Vegas was all the answer he needed.

* * *

Aulick was lounging downstairs in the family room, watching Spence and Trigger play Madden NFL 19 in between texting with Jenni, who was currently at work. He was waiting for her to reply and laughing at the two players trash-talking one another when the doorbell rang. Noticing neither of them were making any move to see who it was, he dragged himself off the couch and over to the door.

"Yeah?"

The three people standing outside looked somewhat surprised when he opened the door. The woman was obviously in charge, and she wore a business suit with her obviously-dyed hair pinned up in a tight bun. The two men – one slightly older than the woman and obviously her husband, the other in his late twenties or early thirties whose demeanor practically _screamed_ 'yuppie' – looked uncomfortable and appeared as though they wished they were anywhere else.

"Are your parents home, young man?" Aulick could tell by the woman's tone she was by no means a fan of children. He glanced at the woman's face, feeling as though he should recognize her.

 _I know that lady from somewhere…_

Then it suddenly clicked, and he glowered at the woman.

"What the hell do you want, Senator Fields?"

The woman seemed surprised that he knew her but pasted a politician smile on her face. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, young man…and I'd appreciate it if you were a bit politer."

"Not gonna happen," Aulick snapped. "Especially not when you and your Socialist cronies wanna slash our defense budget by seventy percent. Tell me, Senator…do you truly hate America, or did the hefty payouts from that abscessed pimple on the asshole of life known as Fred Nikos ease your conscience?"

Fields dropped all sense of amiability at Aulick's question and gave him a poisonous glare. "If your mother or father are at home, I'd appreciate you fetching them. And as for your question, children shouldn't speak of things they know nothing about."

"The dude asked a simple-enough question, lady," Trigger put in, he and Spence coming to stand in the doorway behind Aulick. "Do ya love or hate our country?"

"Because if you hate it, you can do us all a huge favor and get the fuck out," Spence added.

Senator Fields chose not to acknowledge their statements. "Again, where are your parents?"

"No parents to be found here," Aulick replied, pulling out his ship-name baseball cap and putting it on with Spence and Trigger following suit, causing Fields to literally recoil. "Congrats, lady…you just walked into a nest of some of the very people you're trying to royally fuck over. Don't expect a hero's welcome."

Fields' husband visibly cringed; whether it was from the destroyers' language or his wife's monumental blunder, Aulick didn't know. _On the plus side, at least one of them appears to have a lick of common sense_ , he thought.

"I'm Garrett Fields," the older man stated. "My wife and I are looking for our daughter, and Norfolk Naval Base stated this was her address. Is she here?"

"Sorry, dude…nobody by the name of Fields lives here," Spence replied.

"She's using my wife's maiden name so as not to draw attention to herself," Garrett replied. "Her name is Keely Burton."

"Holy fuck…the Chief is _related_ to _you_?" Spence gaped. "Damn," he turned to Trigger, "we need to ease up on her a little from now on…I mean, her childhood must've royally _sucked_ , and then she joins the Navy where we cause her no end of stress day in and day out." He shook his head. "It just ain't right."

"No kiddin'," Trigger agreed, then motioned to the younger man. "Who's da stiff?"

The young man drew himself up indignantly. "I'm Chade Wellington Cartwell III, of the Beacon Hill Cartwells, if you must know," he snapped. "I'm Keely's fiancé."

The three visitors were surprised when the trio at the door looked at each other and cracked up laughing.

"Aw, man…that's a good one!" Aulick laughed.

"Da stiff's got a sense of humor! Who knew?" Trigger put in.

"And 'Chade'? The fuck kind of a name is 'Chade'?" Spence gasped for air.

"It's an old family name!" Cartwell shot back. "Now can we please see my fianceé?"

The trio at the door grinned as if they knew something Keely's parents didn't.

"Sure! C'mon in!" Aulick seemed to be holding back even more laughter. As Cartwell and the Fields entered the house, he motioned up the staircase. "Second floor, first door on your right."

As the visitors ascended the stairs, they couldn't understand why the three shipboys burst into laughter all over again. Giving directions couldn't possibly be _that_ funny…

* * *

The knock at the door pierced through the mush that Converse's mind currently resembled as he lay propped up against the back of the couch after a bout of what could only be described as 'frantic monkey sex' with his gorgeous new wife.

"Who the fuck…?" he mumbled groggily.

Keely lay where she'd collapsed minutes ago, draped over the arm of the couch with a _very_ satisfied grin on her face. "Izzat someone knocking?" She murmured sleepily.

"Yeah," Converse replied. "Fuck it; I ain't movin'…let 'em pound."

When the knocking refused to stop, the destroyer swore under his breath and got up. "Be right there…gimme a sec!" He stood up, then leaned over Keely.

"You go clean up, Honey…I'll get rid of whoever's out there."

Keely got to her feet. "Clean up…?" she murmured in confusion, then felt something running down her leg. Giving her husband a look of death, she stormed off to the bathroom.

Converse watched her go with a goofy grin, then turned towards the door, adjusting his Navy-issue boxers as he went. _Fuck, she's hot when she's pissed_ , he thought.

He opened the door to find three well-dressed people on the other side. When said people saw the door opened by a young man dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, they all gave him looks of disgust.

"Yeah? Can I help you?" He asked.

"I'm Senator Lucinda Fields," the woman replied, "and this is my husband, Garrett. We're looking for our daughter, Keely Burton, but she's apparently not answering her door. Might you know where she is?"

Converse grinned. _Sometimes life just throws good stuff right into your lap._ "I might have an idea…c'mon in." As the group entered, he asked, "So, you're Keely's parents, eh? Hard to believe such a great person came out of the union between a human and…well, you. I'd call you the Creature from the Black Lagoon, but it just recently lost the Presidential Election, so yeah…"

"You're another shipboy, I presume," Fields glowered at him.

"Yep," Converse replied. "But at the same time, I'm also so much more." He bit his tongue to keep from bursting out into hysterical laughter at the confused look on the Senator's face and turned to the third member of Field's group to keep his composure. "And who're you?"

"I'm Keely's fiancé, Chade Wellington Cartwell III, of the Beacon Hill Cartwells," the younger man replied.

Converse snorted back laughter. "'Chade'? The fuck kind of a name is 'Chade'?"

"It's a family name!" Cartwell snapped.

"Of course it is," the destroyer smiled sarcastically. _Dear God, what a yutz!_

"You said you might have an idea where Keely is?" Garrett asked.

Converse was about to reply when a growl of rage erupted from the bathroom.

"Dammit, Converse…I told you to pull out!" Keely yelled.

Fields turned a poisonous look on Converse. Her husband and Chade didn't look too pleased either.

"Um, we got company, babe!" Converse called back. "They heard every word of what you just said."

"I don't give a fuck!" Keely replied. "Oh, my God…there's a _ton_ of this shit! Don't you ever whack off?! So help me God, if I get pregnant before I'm ready I will castrate you in your fucking _sleep_!"

That was it; Converse lost it. Keely apparently heard him burst out laughing, for the toilet flushed and seconds later she stormed out of the bathroom wearing the bathrobe he kept on the back of the door.

"You think this is _funny_?!" she was apparently about to lay into her husband when she noticed the other people in the room. "Mom?! Dad?! And who the hell are you?" she amended when she noticed Chade.

"Chade is the fiancé I've chosen for you, Keely," Lucinda replied imperiously. "So, pack your things and we'll go by whatever office on base for you to put in for your retirement papers."

Keely blinked, then looked at Converse. "Is she serious?"

Converse shrugged. "Apparently…I can't see any signs of a serious head injury, but then again, I ain't a hospital ship, either."

Keely turned back to her parents and grinned. "Mom, Dad, I'm glad you're here…it saves me the trouble of trying to contact you." She walked over to Converse and leaned against him, and the destroyer instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'd like you to meet Fletcher-class destroyer U.S.S. Converse, DD-509…my husband and your new son-in-law." She punctuated this statement by showing off her wedding ring set.

Converse decided to not only put a nail in the coffin containing Senator Fields' plans, but power-slam said coffin into the ground, too.

"C'mon, Mom! Give us a hug!" He spread his arms open wide and plastered a cheesy grin on his face.

Keely had to admit, she'd never seen her mother's face drain of all color as quick as it did in that moment. Ironically, it was Chade who broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Lucinda…my family does not practice sexual perversions like three-person marriages. Consider our arrangement hereby dissolved." He headed for the door. "My family will refund our transaction within the next few days."

"What transaction?" Keely demanded to know.

"The contract between your mother and I," Cartwell responded. "She paid my family $500,000 for you and I to marry. I'm running for the State Senate in 2020 and having a wife would pad my resumé quite nicely." He looked at her with contempt. "Rest assured said wife will _not_ be you."

"I'm devastated," Keely quipped, a deadpan expression on her face. "How shall I cope?"

Converse burst out laughing once again as Lucinda followed Chade out the door without a word to her daughter. Keely's father followed his wife, looking as though he was quite thankful to be leaving. Converse and Keely followed them downstairs, again holding back laughter as Chade was yet again questioned about his name by Stanly, Thatcher, and Espada, who had just arrived home. Lucinda – predictably – did not receive glad tidings from the three new arrivals; storming out of the house without even acknowledging their vocal opinions about her actions in Congress. As she neared the Suburban parked in the driveway, she turned to Keely with a poisonous glare.

"This isn't over, Keely…you've seen what happens to people who don't go along with what I tell them to do. I never thought I'd have to lump my own daughter in with them." She turned to a confused Fallyn, who was standing next to Thatcher. "Take my advice, young lady…get as far away from these… _things_ …as humanly possible. They're not worth wasting your life over."

Fallyn scoffed. "Whatevah, ma'am…I don't turn mah back on family." The ship-boys all voiced agreement for her reply, and Fallyn blushed when Thatcher put an arm around her in support.

Lucinda scoffed derisively before glowering at the five smirking destroyers and the two submarines standing on the porch. "And as for _you_ , I'd just as soon see the ship-person program cancelled and every single one of you _scrapped_! You're a disgrace to this country!"

"Aren't you supposed to be looking into a mirror when you say that last line, _chica_?" Espada grinned. "I dunno, it just seems more fitting for some reason."

"Lady, we're not disgraces," Aulick informed her. "Haven't you heard?"

The five destroyers grinned and chorused,

"We're always chasing splashes,  
We're always goin' fast.  
We're always causin' chaos,  
And forever kickin' ass!  
Hidee, tidee, God Almighty,  
Who the hell are we?  
We're fuckin' awesome sons-of-guns,  
We're DesRon 23!"

Lucinda made no further comment and got into her vehicle. The group continued as the Suburban drove off.

"If you try and mess with us.  
You will learn soon enough.  
You mess with one, you mess with all,  
We'll really fuck you up!  
Hidee, tidee, God Almighty,  
Who the hell are we?  
We're fuckin' awesome sons-of-guns,  
We're DesRon 23!"

Converse turned to Keely, whose smile had faded somewhat. "What's wrong, hun?"

Keely looked at him in concern. "What my mother said was true, Converse, the part about bad things happening to people who don't go along with what she says."

To her surprise, her husband grinned and shook his head. "Somehow, I think it's gonna turn out different this time. And sadly, Chadey-san will have to choose a different career in life…my communications department recorded your parents' entire visit, including every word of what your Mom and Chade said." His grin widened. "I think Sean Hannity of Fox News would be _very_ interested in it."

The kiss that followed drew numerous catcalls, but Keely didn't care…she had a new family and the future looked brighter than ever.

* * *

Saratoga sat in her car three houses down from her target, barely able to contain her excitement. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

 _0300…it's showtime._

Right on cue, the man known as the Unipiper – dressed in full Scottish regalia, along with his trademark Darth Vader helmet and riding a unicycle – began playing the _Star Wars_ theme on his brand-new _flaming_ bagpipes. Right in Captain Ramsey's driveway.

Saratoga let out a happy little sigh and reached across the console for the bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos in the passenger seat. Entertainment like this was so hard to come by…unless you paid good money for it like she did.

Ramsey was jarred out of his dreamless sleep by an insane amount of noise. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep unless it stopped, he got out of bed and headed downstairs, shaking his head at the injustice of it all.

 _My sleep schedule is_ completely _disrupted…people can be so inconsiderate…_

He glanced out the blinds in his dining room window to see what appeared to be a kilt-wearing Darth Vader playing flaming bagpipes while riding a unicycle in circles in his driveway. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, then looked again.

The image was still there.

He shook his head. _This has_ got _to be a dream…_

Then another thought occurred to him: _the neighbors…uh-oh…_

Right on cue, his neighbor across the street, seventy-three-year-old retired Sergeant Major Verna Schlagelmilch, appeared on her front porch wearing a ratty bathrobe and hair rollers, a lit cigarette between her lips, and carrying the same meticulously-maintained M14 service rifle she'd been issued when she went through Parris Island in 1958.

"I don't know what's making all that noise, but I'm gonna shoot it!" she used her Drill Instructor voice to express this sentiment.

Ramsey cringed. In the front seat of her car, Saratoga nearly peed herself laughing.

Ramsey's attention was suddenly diverted when a pounding on his front door threatened to break it down. The Captain nervously went to the door and opened it, expecting to find an irate former Marine.

What he found instead nearly made him wet himself.

"RAMSEY!" His next-door neighbor, professional wrestler Shep "Bloodbath" McGrath, three-time winner of the World's Strongest Man competition, was standing on the other side looking thoroughly Not Happy.

"Mister McGrath," Ramsey began, "let me just say –" His neighbor didn't allow him to get any further.

"I'M ON THE ROAD 300 OUT OF 365 DAYS A YEAR!" The wrestler bellowed. "AND WHEN I GET A COUPLE DAYS OFF, I EXPECT TO HAVE PEACE AND QUIET…MAYBE CATCH UP ON A LITTLE BEAUTY SLEEP, GET ME?!"

Ramsey nodded rapidly.

"THAT KINDA SHIT," McGrath pointed at the Unipiper, who was frantically making his escape after having realized the Very Large Angry Person had noticed his existence, "DOESN'T HELP ME RELAX! THE NEXT TIME SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENS, I'M GONNA TAKE THOSE BAGPIPES AND STICK THE FLAMING END SOMEPLACE THAT YOU'LL FIND REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE! AND THAT'S AFTER I REARRANGE YOU LIKE A HUMAN PRETZEL!"

Ramsey would normally inform someone who made a threat like that against him that he was going to call the police and file threat charges but seeing as how he once watched his neighbor lift an Oldsmobile with his bare hands, he didn't think the threat of calling law enforcement would mean much. He nodded meekly. McGrath, seeing he'd made his point, turned and stormed out of the house.

Ramsey exhaled in relief. He glanced outside and noticed Sergeant Major Schlagelmilch had also gone back indoors, leaving the neighborhood once again quiet. He was about to shut the door and go back to bed himself when he saw a car start up down the street. It slowed as it passed by his house, and the driver's side window rolled down to reveal Saratoga.

"Sweet dreams, Captain!" the carrier gave him a jaunty wave and giggled before speeding off.

Ramsey watched her go and sighed as he shut his front door. _Something will have to be done about this…but what?_ He resolved to think on it more the following day; sleep was paramount if one wanted to be an efficient officer and an example to their subordinates.

* * *

Rhodes and his brother approached their respective destinations inside the battleship dorms. They had been dating Haruna and Kirishima for nearly three months now, and while both had grown closer to their respective girlfriends, neither relationship had progressed far beyond kissing and serious cuddling. Rhodes was content with this; Haruna was a sweet, quiet girl and he had no desire to pressure her into something she wasn't ready for. He figured she would let him know when she was ready. Jimmy – as per usual – was more than willing to go farther with Kirishima than where they were currently at, but he also knew she had the capability to make sure he never put the moves on anyone ever again if he did something she didn't want, so he was content with keeping his fun parts attached and letting her set the pace.

The pair knocked on their girls' doors. While there was silence from Haruna's room, Kirishima's door opened almost immediately. Jimmy barely restrained himself from drooling when he saw the youngest Kongo wearing a prime example of the term 'little black dress'. The garment ended around mid-thigh, and when combined with the heels she was wearing, caused her legs to seem miles long.

"Good evening, James-san," Kirishima smiled, the glint in her eyes saying she knew her date liked what he was seeing very much.

"Hey there, darlin'," Jimmy grinned. "You're lookin' beyond gorgeous, as usual."

Kirishima smirked. "Flattery will get you everywhere, James-san," she replied, the lenses of her glasses glinting even though there wasn't enough light around for them to do so. The two doctors chalked it up to what they'd heard Fleet Admiral Avers call 'Kongo-class Quirks'.

Lust flared briefly in Jimmy's eyes as he caught on to what Kirishima meant, but the fast battleship pressed a hand to his chest.

"Now, now…at least buy a lady dinner first!" she laughed, grabbing Jimmy's hand and pulling him toward the exit. "Besides," she murmured seductively, "according to my calculations, you will need to keep up your strength."

Rhodes snickered while Jimmy whimpered as Kirishima led him away before turning his attention back to his own girlfriend's door. He knocked again and was relieved when he heard Haruna's soft voice from inside.

"Come in…"

Rhodes opened the door, only to be greeted with total darkness.

"Haruna?" He called into the room.

"Please enter, William-san," Haruna invited, and Rhodes did so, closing the door and leaving them both in total darkness.

Then Haruna flipped on a light, and Rhodes' brain proceeded to temporarily forget everything he'd learned in life.

Haruna's dress was the color of ripe cherries, and the skirt was made of diaphanous material which slid to the side in a soft whisper as the fast battleship crossed her legs where she was sitting on her bed. Said legs were encased in black thigh-high stockings topped with lace, and the top of her dress was very low-cut and appeared to be held up only by a bikini-style tie around her neck, thereby showcasing her fast battleship…attributes…very nicely indeed. Her dark hair draped like a silken curtain down her back, and she gazed at him with a demure smile on her face.

She was sex personified and pure innocence all rolled into one incredible package.

"Good evening, William-san," she murmured. "H-Haruna realizes you probably have reservations at Hosho's restaurant, but perhaps we could…stay in tonight?" She glanced down when she asked this, a blush coming over her face.

Rhodes couldn't have refused her even if he'd wanted to. He knelt in front of her, placing his hand on her petal-soft cheek.

"Exquisite," he breathed, and Haruna's blush deepened.

"Are you sure, darlin'?"

Haruna's gaze met his and she nodded shyly. Rhodes smiled and leaned in, kissing her softly, and was quite surprised when she moaned and quickly deepened the kiss. He was even more surprised when she reached down, grabbed his shirt, and ripped it and his t-shirt open.

"Haruna _like_ ," the fast battleship purred, then pounced.

Rhodes' last thought before his mind shut down was, _It's always the quiet ones…_

* * *

Sendai cheered as the last ship in the enemy fleet exploded, and she flashed a happy grin at her boyfriend.

"Team YASEN_Baka wins again!" she laughed.

The pair had found their niche together in playing _World of Warships_. Sendai was – big surprise – quite adept when it came to playing cruisers, while John found he was a master at battleships. Their team – her in a Tier X _Zao_ , he in a Tier VIII _Alabama_ , and some other players elsewhere – had steadily improved over the past two weeks since Sendai had first introduced him to the game.

" _Great job, guys!"_ Ziggy204, who was currently running a Tier V _Yahagi_ , complimented.

" _All thanks to our awesome Team Captain, Izumi_2443,"_ BigBen7, running a Tier X _Daring_ , put in.

John frowned at the tone BigBen7 used, almost as if he were flirting with Sendai, even though the guy probably had no idea who she really was.

" _Speaking of YASEN, Redneck_ ," Ziggy204 addressed John using his in-game identity of Redneck_Samurai, _"aren't you currently living in Japan? Maybe you could meet a shipgirl for us and tell us what she's like."_

Sendai clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled; John pulled her close and kissed the top of her head affectionately.

"It's a possibility," he acknowledged.

" _Yeah, not only try and meet one, but maybe try and get with one, too,"_ BigBen7 added. _"I hear several of them are massive sluts."_ Then he _really_ put his foot in his mouth. _"Including Sendai."_

Sendai's smile vanished when she was reminded of her promiscuous past. John didn't say a word; he merely loaded high-explosive shells, zoomed in on BigBen7's _Daring_ – which, due to sailing in team formation was at point-blank range – and opened fire. The resulting broadside was a 90% hit rate; the British tin can didn't stand a chance and vanished in a massive explosion.

" _WHAT THE FUCK, REDNECK?!"_ BigBen7 screamed.

"First off, Benny, you don't talk like that about women," John replied. "And secondly, don't you _ever_ call my girlfriend that word again, you got me?"

" _What do you have to say about this, Izumi?"_ BigBen7 demanded, apparently completely missing the fact that John had revealed their Team Captain was an actual shipgirl. _"I was just attacked and sunk by my own fucking teammate!"_

"Speaking as your Team Captain, I say it was well-deserved," Sendai snapped. "Redneck-san is completely correct…you shouldn't speak about women in that manner." She paused and then said, "And speaking as the very person you were talking about and as your _ex_ -Team Captain, _Kirainahito, ketsu no ana_ (fuck off, asshole)!" She brought her cursor up to BigBen7's name, right-clicked, and hit the command that read, 'Dismiss from team', cutting off BigBen7's angry rant mid-sentence.

Ziggy204 signed off soon after, citing needing to get to bed due to having work the following day. With their team offline, Sendai and John both signed off as well, and Sendai snuggled into John's side, nuzzling his neck. Over the past two weeks, she'd tried to get him to break their 'no-sex' rule, but he'd remained adamant on that issue. To her surprise, however, this time he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

"You know, darlin', it's been two weeks," he mused.

 _Don't I know it…I'm so horny I could scream_ , Sendai thought.

"And in those two weeks," John stated, "I've learned several things."

"What's that?"

"Number three, you're a very talented gamer and I look forward to learning more from you in the future."

Sendai grinned at his compliment, but sensed he wasn't finished. "What else?"

"Number two, I learned even more about just how amazing you truly are and how lucky I am to have you."

A spark of lust flared in the light cruiser's eyes. "What else?"

"And the Number One, most-important thing I've learned in these two weeks," John announced, "is that I'm madly in love with you and I never want to go two weeks without having sex with you ever again."

Sendai answered his statement by attempting to remove his tonsils with her tongue. When they finally had to separate for air, she gazed into John's eyes and murmured tenderly, "I love you, too." She then put on her best puppy-eyed look. "Yasen?" she asked hopefully.

"Dear _God_ , yes!" John nodded fervently.

Sendai squealed excitedly and pounced. "YASEN!"

John learned that night he was quite thankful his cousins had decided to find other accommodations.

* * *

Three hours later, Jimmy and Kirishima returned to the dorm. As they passed by Haruna's quarters, certain noises could be heard, noises that made it obvious to anyone passing by outside what the occupants of the room were doing.

"Wonder what they're up to," Jimmy grinned.

Kirishima returned his grin, but before she could reply, a feminine squeal was heard, followed by an ecstatic cry of, "DAIJOUBU!"

"Well, that answers that question," Jimmy laughed, then looked at his girlfriend questioningly when he saw Kirishima giving him a critical once-over. "Somethin' wrong, darlin'?"

"Oh, no…nothing's wrong, James-san," she assured him. "I was analyzing your form to see if I could possibly determine how many times you can perform intercourse in one night."

It was at this point Jimmy's brain shut down for the evening, and XO Libido took command of the bridge.

"Well, Miss Kirishima," Jimmy mused, his Southern accent on full, "I've always believed that some things are best discovered with a more practical, hands-on approach…wouldn't you agree?" Jimmy drew the youngest Kongo into his arms and nuzzled her neck, finding a sweet spot behind her right ear and kissing it softly.

"I-I…ahhh…agree," the fast battleship moaned, hurriedly unlocking her door.

* * *

Rhodes was jarred out of his dozing by a door slamming shut, followed by several muffled cries and moans, then by a rhythmic thumping noise. He glanced down to see Haruna blushing.

"I don't know why you're embarrassed, sweetheart," he stated. "It's not like we weren't doin' the exact same thing not five minutes earlier."

"S-Still…that's…private," Haruna murmured into his chest, causing Rhodes to plant a kiss on her hair. The fast battleship smiled at the tender gesture and snuggled closer. She then sat up, her long hair draped over one shoulder and the other bare and glistening with sweat. To Rhodes, she looked positively delectable.

"Haruna will be unable to sleep as long as that noise is going on," She stated.

Rhodes grinned mischievously. "Care to give them some competition?"

To his surprise, his girlfriend returned his grin. "You read Haruna's mind."

Rhodes was thankful that the rest of the dorms on that floor were unoccupied, otherwise Fuso and Yamashiro – the two battleships who had had quarters on that floor before leaving for their new assignment in Sasebo – would've been in for a _very_ sleepless night.

* * *

 **UP NEXT:** Thatcher and Foote help their girlfriends confront their pasts! Thanksgiving arrives at the Most-Epically Awesome Party House! And foes both new and old rear their ugly heads!

Note 1: Prinz Eugen's biggest fan is a nod to my friend Nikki...a belated Merry Christmas, my friend!

Note 2: If you want to see a picture of Haruna's dress, look on the Azure Lane website and check out their version of Taiho.

 **READ & REVIEW!**


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